For the Love of Dance
by angelofjoy
Summary: When the Opera Populair find itself in trouble, Andre and Firmim have to find a way to save their fortune and reputation. The return of the Phantom presents a great new musical form but many things return which bring the evil into the present, Please R
1. The Concept of Time

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the original characters of the phantom of the opera they are the property of Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber. **

_**Chapter 1. The Concept of Time**_

Year seem sometimes to move along very slowly and yet they do pass. It is hard to imagine how much something can change within the span of a year. Though it may not seem like anything has changed, they always have. Hearts eventually mend and fears disappear. New people will come and old people will go, all adding to the great diversity that is humanity. Most people do not like change but it is inevitable. Change is what brings happiness and sadness. The years change everything and everyone. With time comes the changing of stories, they are passed along and changed as they are told to different groups and people. People will change and grow older as the years move on. It is the constant change in everything that makes the world an interesting place and it is possible for even the hardest of hearts to change and love again.

Three years had past in the city of Paris. Things that once looked new began to fade and become familiar among the streets and the people had begun to forget the fear that had come to pass after the phantom had terrorised the young Diva Christine Daae. She had, since then, left the opera house and had married Raoul de Chagny the Viscount and had not been seen or heard within the Paris music circles again. Some say she quit after the her ordeal, to afraid to take the stage again, other believed that it was the loss of the phantom that rendered her voice plane and undesirable. The fact remained Christine was no longer know as the singer that she once was and had disappeared from the eyes of the public. No one will ever know for sure but she seemed to fall away like the pedals of a dying rose. The beauty of her voice was gone, not to be heard in Paris again.

The phantom, to had disappeared but the workers believed him to still be lurking in the depths of the opera. Superstition had become the main playing point in the workers lives. Much of the opera house had been destroyed by fire and the hunt for the murderer who was the opera ghost. But he was not found. Though his layer was found many believed that it was not his primary place of dwelling and that somewhere beneath the city of Paris there was a palace occupied by a monster. No one had been able to locate it and after some time the police and the searchers had given up. He seemed to disappear without a trace, without a sound, people believed him dead or dying and believed him no longer a menace. The superstitions however grew, the opera house was restored to its old splendour and glowed as if it were new. Marble steps gleamed white and the gold trimmings sparkled in the light of the sun. This place was once again warm with life. But the old ghost stories remained, it was after all the opera populair and would forever be shadowed but the stories that had once unfolded within its doors.

Performances had began to take place again in this theatre. Music filled its rooms and excitement radiated from all around. Ballerinas were back in training and living in the opera house dormitories. The stages and the underlying portions of the stage were filled again with life and movement. More men then before had been employed in the theatre, at least two for every job for safety purposes and because the teams had become so paranoid about the opera ghost that they would not travel the halls alone. Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin were the first men to enforce this new policy and because of their great fear that, perhaps the ghost was still with them, many of the Phantom's demands were still met. Madame Giry was still in charge of the ballet troop. She was also put in charge of making sure that box five was always empty. The phantom had not been seen in that box for three whole year and still if anyone tried to take a place in that seat, over looking the stage, the performers and the managers were refuse to let a show proceed. Madame Giry was also put in charge of the phantom's twenty thousand franks that were owed to him monthly. It was never assumed that Madame Giry would take the money but every month on the first of the month Monsieur Firmin would deliver the money to Madame Giry who would leave the money in box five for a week and if the money did not disappear then Madame Giry would return the money to Monsieur Andre and every month it was the same. The money would be set out and again the money would be returned. It had only happened on two occasions that the money did leave the box. This reassured Andre and Firmin that the ghost was still with them and that they should keep to their new routine.

It was a shame, however, that the opera house was not making the money that it had in the past. Andre and Firmin feared that the end was near for their theatre as they could not convince any major divas to return. La Carlotta had left them for good when Piangi was killed. Christine was no more and so the only people to sing in this place were people that had once been employed and understood the affairs of the phantom of the opera. Andre and Firmin had tried to convince new people to come into the troop and the only people that would come were the ballerinas. They had nearly stopped the performances of operas all together for all they could perform was the ballet and it had begun to fall out of favour with the people of Paris. The opera populaire was facing certain ruin.

One hot summer afternoon Andre and Firmin had taken to the streets in front of the opera to lounge in the cool breeze and to take in a long lazy lunch. The sun beat down on the patio umbrella that covered their outdoor table as the two men sat and pondered what they could do to save their opera house.

"Andre, we need an opera. There is no way for us to continue if we don't have an opera!" Richard Firmin stated as he sipped a light fruity lunch wine.

"I know we do but we cannot convince anyone to come into our theatre to perform. And even if we could have would it be possible to top a spectacle as the one seen on the final night of the phantom of the opera? Don Juan Triumphant was an amazing performance. A master piece in itself and yet a disaster for us." Gille Andre said as he took another bite from his sandwich.

"Perhaps we need to find our phantom again and have him write us a new, a brilliant opera and have him perform in it," Firmin said as he whipped the sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief.

"Are you mad? Who in their right mind would perform with the phantom of the opera?" Andre said as he repeated the line over to himself.

"He wouldn't be known as the phantom of the opera he must have a name it could be just what we need to bring life and music back into our theatre." Firmin said feeling more confident about his idea.

"And how do you suggest we find this fellow, whom we have only known as an enemy?" Andre said finally letting Firmin continue to elaborate on his idea.

"Madame Giry must know how to find him," Firmin continued, "she could convince him, couldn't she? We offer him more than what he asked us for and have his works performed by the man with a voice that no one has heard!"

"And what of his face?" Andre asked, "how can we put a creature like that before the people to watch?"

"People go to the fair to see it don't they? Why can't they come to the theatre to see it?" Firmin smiled.

"You are making the opera into a freak show!" Andre said feeling completely against the idea.

"Then have them wear masked like they had done in Don Juan. You have to admit Andre its probably one of the best ideas we've had to save the opera," Firmin said with a sigh.

"And what if he is really dead and worse what if he refuses to help us?" Andre asked, "it has only been three year since everything fell apart with Miss Daae. Perhaps he has really given up on everything."

"It is a chance we must take. We must find something to keep this opera house alive. Something that we can use to lour the talent back to us. Our ballet troop is the best in Paris all we need is the vocal talent to bring to us the biggest spectacle that Paris has yet to see. We need the phantom to return to the opera and we need to use his publicity to bring in the patrons. We are desperate," Firmin said slamming his fist down onto the table.

"Yes but what if Madame Giry refuses to help us?" Andre asked thinking of every possible scenario.

"Can't you be optimistic for one minute Andre, really," Firmin huffed, "think of how amazing it would be to have an opera written for the revival of our theatre. Think of the masses of people that will line up to sing when we announce that we have an original, a brand new opera, to be debuted at the opera populaire. Think of it how the people will come by the thousands to see the show and to celebrate the wonderful spectacle that will be the rebirth of the opera in Paris. Just think of it Andre!"

"Even if the phantom doesn't perform to say that we have the phantom's newest opera would be publicity enough," Andre said finally sharing the vision, "but there is one problem Firmin."

"And what is that?" Richard Firmin asked as he rolled his eyes.

"Where are we going to get the money to fund this revival. We are going to have to pay the phantom double and any new actors if we get them. How are we going to be able to afford that?" Andre asked.

"We'll cross that bridge when it needs to be crossed," Firmin stated as he placed some money in the waiters hand and stood up from the table, placing his black top hat on his head he said, "We know what we have to do right now. We must bring back the publicity. We have to find the Phantom of the Opera."


	2. No is Not an Option

_**Chapter 2: No is Not an Option**_

Andre and Firmin waited in silence, in their office, as a page was sent to fetch Madame Giry. They sat at their respective desks that faced each other, in the room, and neither looked up at the other. Andre flipped through a news paper as Firmin drummed his fingers nervously on his desk as he stared out the window to the sunny streets below. Finally Madame Giry was ushered into the room and took a seat in a large arm chair that faced the two desks. Firmin force a few note into the boys hand and shooed him out of the room. He waited at the door till the boy was well out of sight, of the office, and closed the door silently behind him. He then took his seat again at his desk and the silence in the room became deafening.

Madame Giry shifted uneasily in her seat, moving her glance from one man to the other. Both looked nervous and hot in the summer heat and their suits of wool and cotton. Both of them looked down at their folded hands as if they were praying for some terrible disaster to pass them by. The last time Mme. Giry had seen them like this they were seated in a small hotel room the night that the theatre had been set on fire. Much of their fortune was lost that night but the theatre was rebuilt and they came out of their unhappiness to lead the company again. They were always the optimistic ones around the theatre and when the days came that the operas had to stop and the ballets were their only source of income they looked at it as another wonderful endeavour for the opera populaire. But this was different then the last time. Their desks were littered with maps of the city, old one and new ones. Architectural drawings of the theatre fell over the edge of both desks and a large leather bound journal rested between both of them. Andre fiddled a bit with a quill he had in one hand and Firmin's eyes moved unnaturally over the drawings of the theatre. Mme. Giry finally spoke to break the uneasiness that filled the small room.

"Gentlemen, if you don't mind telling me what is going on. If there is no reason for me to be in your office other than to watch the two of you sit in silence and ponder over your maps I ask that you give me my days pay and send me forth to continue my work. Unless there is something that really is as urgent as the page has told me. He made is seem like the world was ending for the two of you and now that I am here you merely sit in silence," she said as she sighed loudly.

"Oh Mme. Giry, it is important. More important than anyone in this theatre will ever think it to be. We have a job for you that is probably almost impossible but if anyone can do it we know it is you." Andre said as he flipped back a few pages in the leather bound journal, "we are willing to pay you twice your daily wage for as long as it take if you agree to help us in our cause." he said has he pushed a page of equations into the women's hands.

She looked over the page of figures slowly, taking in everything that was on the page and doing calculations of her own in her head before she spoke, "I would like to know the cause of such importance before I agree to anything and your calculations are a little bit off M. Andre just right here," she said as she placed the paper back on the desk and pointed to the error.

"We need you to find us the phantom of the opera," Firmin said calmly as he leaned back in his chair.

"Really M. Firmin this is no time for jokes what is the real reason I am hear?" she asked with a little laugh.

"It is no joke Madame," Firmin said as he motioned to Andre to continue.

"We are in great trouble Madame," Andre said with a hint of fear in his voice, "we are not going to be able to keep the theatre running or the ballet school if we do not pick up our business. And so we need to have an opera of great proportions performed here."

"You are just not trying hard enough to bring in the vocal talent to this place to through the opera back into the favour of the people," Mme. Giry said frankly.

"Oh we are Madame, you have no idea how we are trying, but people are either too above performing old operas or they are to afraid of our theatre," Firmin said as he tapped his fingers on the desk again.

"Then commission a composer to write you a grand opera," Mme. Giry stated.

"That is our plan, we want to commission the phantom of the opera to write us another. Another opera as grand in design as Don Juan Triumphant. We are prepared to offer him one hundred thousand franks for an opera that would be publicised as the next great masterwork by the opera ghost." Firmin said happily, "and to continue his monthly wage of twenty thousand franks just to be our resident composer."

"That is absolute madness monsieur," Madame Giry stated with a look of disgust and horror crossing her face, "that would be like making a deal with the devil!" she said still with a tone that was unconvinced.

"No madame it is not madness but brilliance," Firmin said getting more and more excited, "absolute brilliance. It would be the best publicity for the theatre. To say that the phantom of the opera has returned. It will bring in the actors and the people we will fill the opera to capacity once more! Have the phantom make an appearance at opening night and threaten something upon us and the seats will be filled for months. We will have the opera back in our theatre and then we can continue to perform the operas as we once did. As long as we can keep this publicity alive."

"He has gone mad hasn't he?" Giry asked Andre.

"No Madame we are very serious about the idea," Andre said as he looked at Firmin, "our only problem is we cannot find the phantom to ask for his help. We don't even know where to look. You must know how to find him or how to contact him."

"What gives you that idea?" Mme. Giry asked suspiciously.

"You were the one that let him into this theatre in the first place. You must know more than almost anyone about the secrets that lie deep within this place. He must owe something to you for saving his live," Firmin stated as he began to pace in front of the woman.

"That is absurd monsieur," she almost yelled as tears welled in her eyes, "I helped him that first day so that he would not be used as a puppet for peoples enjoyment and now that is what you want to make him into!"

"No, no Madame that is not what we want. We just want to save this place. I mean if we louse then he louses as well. If the theatre goes bankrupt then it most certainly will be demolished and so too will his hiding place," Andre said as he tried to calm both the old woman and his partner.

"What makes you think he is still within this theatre?" Madame Giry asked as she pulled a handkerchief out of her apron and dabbed at her eyes and nose.

"Where else would he have to go woman, you said yourself that he knew nothing else but this place," Firmin said feeling angry.

"He is a grown man monsieur and as the police did not find him then it is obvious that he is not hear," she said feeling more angry every moment that passed.

"We have to find him Madame and you are our only lead right now. If you would simply pass on a message to the man in the mask for us that would be the extent of your involvement should you not want to aid any further. We will leave you after that to your ballet and we'll deal with everything else on our own," Andre said as he motioned for Firmin to take his seat and not say another word to the woman who sat so emotional in their office.

"And what if I do help you and you do get in contact with this man, he is a criminal and what is to say that you will not turn him in to the police the moment that he has given you what you wanted, if he agrees to do what you want him to do?" the woman asked through her tears.

"He is now to much of an asset to us. We are certain that should he be able to help us with this matter of the theatre then he will be able to help us with others. We do not wish to exploit him in any way and should it come down to the police returning to look for him we have prepared ourselves to deny ever seeing him in the theatre and simply have been give instructions through written notification. He will not be found and we will not turn him in," Andre said as he placed one hand on his heart and swore to god in heaven that he would never tell another living soul.

"Alright,"the old woman said after a long silence, "I will try my best to find him but I have to tell you I have not had contact with him since the incidence that had happened. I would not be surprised in the least if he has fled the theatre never to return. And if I do not come to find him then monsieurs I fear that you will have to come up with another idea to save your theatre," she said as she stood from her seat, "if in fact I do find him what do you want me to tell him?" she asked.

"Please tell him that should he agree to speak to us we are happy to comply with any rules or regulations set down by him. We will only see him under his circumstances as to make everything play out in his favour and to show that we are serious about the danger that the theatre is in. It is not our intention to harm him at all and we beg him that he consider aiding in the saving of our theatre. We are resting the fate of the opera populaire in the hands of the Angel of Music." Andre said and placed a note in Madame Giry's hand as well as an envelope that was addressed to the phantom and was unsealed, "you may Madame read over this note I have written to the opera ghost describing exactly what is the financial status of the theatre and the problems that we are all facing. If you are pleased with the letter then seal it in the envelope and if you find the ghost give it to him on our behalf. If you do not find it slip it under our door unopened and we will know that he has either declined or disappeared for good."

Madame Giry stood silently in the middle of the office reading over the letter as the two managers sat silently at their desks. She remained silent for a few minutes then walked slowly to Andre's side. She placed the note back on the desk in front of him and placed her gloved finger in the middle of one of the pages, "the note sounds fine and your offers are very generous but I am afraid you have made another error in your calculations right here Monsieur. Perhaps you should rewrite this letter. Bring it back to me in the envelope sealed with your stamp. I will return to my ballet rehearsal now. You will find me on the stage I will wait for you to come before I set off in search of your phantom."

Andre and Firmin smiled and bowed courteously to the old woman as she left the office. Once she had gone the silence returned as Andre busied himself with the corrections in the letter and Firmin resumed the drumming of his fingers.


	3. The Phantom of the Opera

_**Chapter 3: The Phantom of the Opera**_

The theatre became quiet as the ballet troop finished their rehearsal. The giggling young ladies left in a large group and headed away to their dormitories and then they would be taking the rest of the day to be out in the sunshine of the lovely summer day. Madame Giry sat alone in the front row of seats and watched as everything was moved into their proper places of storage. The pit band was also leaving and Monsieur Reyer, the conductor, was also on his way. He smiled at Mme. Giry, who looked very distressed as she sat alone in silence. She forced a smile back, it was a tired and afraid smile. It worried the conductor enough that he took a seat next to the old woman.

"There is trouble in your eyes this afternoon," he said kindly.

"There are many secrets in the place," was her answer, "more than most would have in a life time. It is exhausting."

"You don't have to do anything that you don't feel comfortable with," he said to her as he heard some of his musicians coming near.

"This is something I have to start if not to end it," she said as she smiled again and watched as Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin also entered the theatre.

"Ah monsieur Reyer, will the ballet be ready to open next week?" Monsieur Firmin asked with a smile as Monsieur Andre slipped the note into Madame Giry's hand.

"Of course it will be ready," Reyer said with a confused look on his face, "why wouldn't it be?"

"No reason it shouldn't," Firmin smiled, "just wanted to hear some good news today."

"I am sure it will be a wonderful ballet," Andre smiled and he and Firmin turned and left the theatre again.

"They are acting incredibly strange," Reyer said to Madame Giry as he too turned and walked out of the theatre.

"You have no idea how strange things are going to get," She sighed to herself and looked at the envelope now in her hands.

Madame Giry was a proud woman. She never presented herself in any other way. She was always tall and stern and well dressed. Her hair was always neatly pinned and her clothing was always proper and pressed. She always wore a very blank look on her face and was strict with her dancers. She wasn't one to give false praises but if the dance was going well she gave praise where praise was due. And for all this she was one of the most respected people to set foot in the theatre. It was an unspoken respect that everyone showed to her and they believed her to be the smartest and the wisest to of all the employees. She treated many of her young ballerinas as her own children. She scolded them when they misbehaved but she was the first to care for them if anything was wrong and she spent many of her nights at the bedsides of her girls if they were ill. Her daughter Meg was becoming more and more like her mother as the years passes. She remained with the opera ballet all her life. She took on another care role next to her mother and though she had many suitors and her mother insisted that she take a husband Meg remained a devoted servant to the theatre. Meg was beautiful beyond compare but she did not like to show it. She wore simple things when she was not dancing and she pinned her hair much like her mother. Her only difference was she did not carry a cane like her mother, although her mother did not need the cane, it was more a symbol of her status for everyone knew that Madame Giry could move more gracefully than any of her ballerinas. When she danced it was like she floated on air and most of her dancers idolised her. Some of the happiest moments for the ballet troop was to simply watch the demonstrations of their beloved teacher.

Meg noticed her mother slouching in a seat at the front of the theatre. Slowly she walked toward her mother not saying a word, her footsteps so light that it was nearly impossible to hear her coming.

"Meg is there something wrong my darling?" Madame Giry said but did not turn to see her daughter coming.

Meg ran quicker now to her mothers side and knelt down on the floor before her. She looked deep into her mothers brown eyes and noticed a great pain within them. She took her mothers hands and Mme. Giry knew her daughter could ready what was wrong. She sighed deeply as tears began to roll down her face. "Mama why do you carry such a burden today? It has hunched you over like an old woman and it plays on your face making you look tired and old. What is wrong?" Meg said as she took a seat next to her mother and hugged her.

"Do you think the theatre is ready for the return of the phantom?" the old woman asked her daughter looking deep into her eyes.

"This is his theatre, mama, you know that. The question is, is he ready to return to a place of bad memories?" Meg said she could already tell what was going to happen, what had to happen. She and her mother had a great connection with each other. They could tell just by looking at each other and by exchanging very few words exactly what was to happen, "would you like me to help you find him? I know how to reach his lair," she said softly into her mothers ear.

"I don't think he will be where you thought he would be," Madame Giry said, "I know that he has a house further underground. I may not even be under this theatre. I could be very far and very deep under Paris. But I myself have not seen him in this place for three years."

"I have seen him," Meg said softly, "he is still around. I have seen him in the box," she said as she pointed up to box five, "perhaps he is there now and listening to us. You know he is always here. You can always feel him."

"I know he is here," Madame Giry sighed, "I best start my search," she said as she stood. She leaned heavily on her cane.

"Shall I come with you?" Meg asked as she looked at her poor mother. She was not the vibrant woman that she normally was.

"No, Meg, I think I should go alone. Should anything happen to me you will have to take over with the ballet. Love them and keep them safe my child and never forget the power that lies within this place." the old woman said.

"Mother please don't speak like that. How could he lay a hand on you for the goodness and kindness that you once showed him," Meg said as she began to weep.

"You must be prepare for the worst my darling," the old woman said as she too began to cry and taking her daughter into her arms she whispered, "I am so proud of you my child, I love you," and with that she disappeared into the darkness of the theatre. Meg was left along. She fell to her knees before the stage and folding her hands over her heart she began to pray.

The ballet mistress slipped on silently through the theatre. She had left her cane behind and walked as silently along the floor as a mouse. She was quick and agile as she moved down stairs and further into the theatre than she has ever travelled before. Before her lay many stairs that travelled down into the depths of the earth. They fell lower and lower like a spring and down in the blackness, sick silver specks of light, from her candle, danced off the dark black water below. This stair case was a flood way. It was possible for the water levels to rise and fill this column. Madame Giry was not aware of how the water column worked but water was used in the productions to run the primitive mechanics of the theatre. She began to feel a greater fear than she had ever felt before as she came closer and closer to the water below. As she walked passages off the stair case began to appear, like hallways into hell they reached out into total darkness. Not even the rats would come this far down. It was cold down this deep in the earth. She looked above her and could no longer see the lights of the theatre floors above only darkness all around her. The sound of the water was becoming clearer. It was moving water, fast rushing under the theatre. She was filled with a coldness that shocked her soul. She feared that this rushing water would soon fill the stairs and she would be lost within it but she continued downward into the blackness. Finally she came to a place that was like a platform next to a rushing river. The water did not look deep, she could see the bottom of the river in the light of her candle. The brick of the man made river were grey and warn but still very visible. Madame Giry looked to either side, from one the water was coming and one the water was going and she was stuck. She did not know which way she should go now. She also grew frightened of the powers of the phantom. What kind of traps he had left around this places as to not be found. She chose to go against the water and see where it originated and headed up stream. She walked slowly and carefully watching every step she made. She knew that if she followed only this rushing water that she would be able to turn around and go back to where she had first started. She walked on for a very long time watching as she passed lost and decaying things. Branches of threes were stuck in this place stripped of their bark and white as the bones of a skeleton. There was no signs of any life or that anyone had been down here. Her feet made imprints in the dust that lined the walk that was the edge of the man made river. The rushing water became louder and louder as if she were coming to some kind of a water fall. It was the sound of water falling into a great pool. She looked over the edge again and noticed that the water was becoming deeper and was rushing by turning the water white. Her small candle could no longer penetrate to the bottom of the river. She strained into the darkness before her and could not see anything. The wall beside her was flat and nothing seemed to penetrate it. She walked on more slowly, until she came face to face with a great wall. In this wall there were three large holes approximately ten feet up the face of the wall. And from these three large holes spued gallons and gallons of water. This was the origins of were the water was coming from. But what was behind the wall. She placed a hand on it, it was cold and damp. She could tell it was thick, perhaps it was yet another water column like the stair case she had come down from the theatre. She sighed heavily feeling some relief that she didn't run into any danger. She leaned her back against the damp wall and noticing that her candle was nearly gone she decided that it would be best if she went back and rested. She would follow the water down stream when she returned and hoped for more luck in her search. She took a deep breath and lifted herself off the wall. She walked a few feet before she heard a strange grinding noise. Fear filled her body, what could that be? She was paralysed with fear at the thought that perhaps she had triggered some trap and that water would fill the space before she could out run it. Suddenly there was an arm around her waist and her candle was extinguished. She was pulled back in direction that seemed impossible, a wall should have been where she was being pulled. The grinding sound came again and then silence followed and she was pinned against a wall by two hands on her shoulder.

"Are you really looking to be killed old woman?" a voice pierced the silence and the blackness.

"Oh god please let me not die," She whispered as tears began to run down her face and suddenly an oil lamp was lit and the dark passage burst into light. She turned her face away quickly from the light as it blinded her, when her eyes had become used the brightness she noticed how long the passage stretched out in one direction and a oily black wall was right next to her. She had been released and standing before her, lamp in hand, was man robbed in black, his disfigured face visible through the hood, "what are you doing down here woman, you know it isn't safe," the voice was gentler.

Madame Giry remained silent for a moment as she stared into his disfigured face, "Erik are you well? Is everything ok?" she asked in a very motherly tone.

"Come," he said and turned away from her, "walk exactly where I walk." he said and headed off down the passage with his oil lamp.

Madame Giry walked carefully down the passage behind the man in black. He stepped from side to side in places and helped her over some other that were protecting the passage with traps and trip wires. Finally they came to a ladder that went up into the ceiling. He stopped and looked back at her for a moment as she looked up, "will you make it?" he asked.

"I'm sure I can," she said as he stepped aside.

"Climb to the top I will follow you in case," he said and motioned for her to start.

The climb into darkness was long, Mme Giry couldn't see a thing in front of her as she climbed. She only felt for the rungs of the ladder and continued up into the darkness. It seemed to stretch on forever. She wondered if she was climbing up as many steps as she came down in the first place. Finally she felt the top of the ladder curve and she stepped off onto yet another platform. She couldn't see anything in the darkness and so she stayed with one hand on the bars of the handle until the man reached the top as well. When the light from the oil lamp lit the platform she could see that it was solid stone for about 4 feet then a great drop into a large hole. Water could be heard at the top pouring into this place from different directions. It was like a giant drain. The phantom moved on ahead of her. He led the way around the great whole to another wall where there was a mass of stones. He pushed on one of the stones and it moved to one side leading into another passage. At the end of the passage there was a bright light. He turned to Madame Giry and stepped aside, "go in," he said to her and then closed the secret door as he had entered.

This last passage was not as long as the others, only about one hundred feet more. When she reached the end of the passage Madame Giry was in a large room that was brightly lit. A few steps that led down to yet another stream. Large lamps hung from the ceiling casting light around the room and supporting the vegetation that was now growing all around. Small miniature trees grew in large pots and moss covered all of the brick and stone work that covered the floor of the room. From the trees flew tropical birds and small animals like rabbits and squirls ran to and from Erik as he walked around his green space. He removed the hood from his head showing his face to the light and the animals. The birds flew to him, the rabbits were not afraid of him and he seemed happy in this place. Madame Giry stood in awe as she watched him with the little things. He was gentle and spoke softly to them. Finally he turned to her and motioned for her to come near him where he placed a brilliant red bird on her arm and watched as she fearfully reached up to the great red bird and stroked its feathers.

"You look cold, woman would you care to come in?" he asked as he motioned to a large wooden door at the other end of the green room.

"I would love to Erik, thank you," she smiled as the bird flew from her and off to another small tree.

They entered the large door, into another great room, one that looked much like the hall of the opera house. A large crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the room and from this hall there were other rooms. All were brightly lit and well decorated. One could not tell that this palace was underground. Or judging from what was found of the phantom's lair that he could be living in such luxury. He lead the old woman into a salon and sat her down in front of a fire. It was a smaller room with large paintings on the walls. The paintings were not of real places but of great imagined lands. With rivers and trees of great colours. Erik sat in another chair opposite the old woman and looked strangely at her.

"Thank you for inviting me in," she finally said breaking the awkward silence.

"Well I felt it only fair considering you were brave enough to make it further than anyone else," he said with a smile as he watched her look upon him without fear.

"It is good to see you," she smiled, "you look well and happy, we all thought you had left us."

"It is my curse to live in solitude I suppose," he sighed, "I've caused enough trouble and pain for many people and for my pour Christine I thought it best to just live out the rest of my days in my world of make believe."

"No one should have to live without companionship," Madame Giry sighed, "should you like, Meg and I would come to visit you more often. She is a very bright girl and very fascinated by your genius."

"Do you think that would be wise?" he asked, "wouldn't people become suspicious of you? I have my animals to keep me company."

"Well, that is actually why I have been sent in search of you," Madame Giry said as she pulled the letter out of her apron pocket and handed it to him, "everything is explained in the letter." she added and watched the fire as he opened the letter and read it slowly.

Erik sat for a moment in silence pondering what had been written. He had in fact been working on another opera. He never thought it would be performed but this did give him the opportunity to release some of his compositions to the world. He didn't however like all of the talk of publicity in the letters but if, in fact, the theatre was destroyed there was the underlying possibility that his home would be more accessible to the public and he risked being found. He sighed deeply and looked up at Madame Giry, "do you think I should?" he asked in a bit of a childish tone.

"It would not be just the theatre that you save, Erik, but all of our jobs and our lives would all be indebted to you. You would be given great creative freedom but it is something that you must take up with Andre and Firmin. Their offer is very generous and they are very desperate," she said as she leaned back in the chair.

"What if my opera isn't as successful as they hope it to be? Then don't they still risk the loss of the theatre?" he asked.

"I am sure your opera is a masterpiece and you have become the legend that people speak of, whatever they do the people will come if only to chance at glimpse of the mighty Phantom of the Opera," Madame Giry stated.

Erik smiled at little at the address, he hadn't though of his involvement with the theatre as becoming something of a legend. He believed that he would still be able to live his quiet life in this his world of make believe and still be able to bring the theatre back into his life. He had hardly ventured out of his home in three years and did miss the freedom that he felt when he was able to find the roof of the theatre on the brilliant stary nights, "I think I would be best," he said after a moment, "that I have a meeting with the managers before making any decisions."

"That is probably a very good idea," she smiled as a small cat came into the room and jumped up onto Erik's lap and began to per loudly.

She was happy to see him living such a normal life aside from the fact that he was deep underground and living alone. But there was still a sparkle in his eyes. It was easy to read in him the want he had to experience different things in life and this the idea of having his opera performed without any underlying plans was something that played greatly on his mind. He placed the cat on the floor and stood from his seat. He walked to a desk at the back side of the room, away from the fireplace and busied himself with a quick note. He folded it and placed it in an envelope sealing it and walking back to Madame Giry, "will you give this to my managers, it tells them were to meet me in two days time. That should give me enough time to compose myself enough to meet with them on a friendly basis," he said as he handed her the note.

"Oh course I can do that for you Erik," she smiled and stood.

"Alright, now that you are rested I will take you out of here," he said as he through his cloak over himself again.

"Thank you," She smiled and kissed him softly on his cheek, "I do appreciate your kindness," she smiled as his face turned a slight shade of pink.

"I will take you out by another way, it is simpler than the last you travelled. If you would like to return to visit me, you and Meg are the only people I will permit, you must come back the way you first came and I will hear you coming," said and smiled as he noticed a glimmer in her eyes, "why do you look at me like that Madame?" he asked.

"Because it fills my heart with joy that you would permit me to return to you and to become your friend," she smiled.

His heart leapt within him, he had never had a friend before. Not a real one at least and this was something new that he looked forward to having. He smiled at the old woman as he pulled the hood up around his face and led her too the large wooden doors. Once again he was out in the green space, he walked quickly across the mossy grass and toward the river. At the river he opened another hidden door and led the way through it. They walked for a very long time along a very dark passage until they came to a wall. Erik moved his hand lightly over the wall and suddenly it slid to one side. Stepping out through the opening Madame Giry found herself once again in the great water column that led back up to the opera house. Erik had followed her out onto the stairs he removed the lid from his oil lamp so that the flame was no longer protected by the glass, "give me you candle," he said to the old woman. She passed to him the remains of the candle and he lit it from his lamp, "this should last you till you have reach the light of the theatre." he said and the candle light lit his face enough to show that he was smiling.

"Thank you so much for your hospitality, Erik, when I return to you is there anything you would like me to bring back to you?" she asked.

"If it is possible I would like you to return to me, my music box," he said softly.

"I will do my best to regain it for you," she smiled and watched as Erik's lamp light disappeared back behind the secret door. She smiled happily to herself, she knew exactly where the music box was being kept and could obtain it very easily. She ran as quickly as she could, without letting the candle go out, up the stairs and back into the familiarity of the theatre.

She walked quickly out onto the stage and noticed that Meg was still where she had left her. She was on her knees and deep in prayer.

"Meg my darling," Madame Giry called out as a smile covered her face.

"Mama you are alright, Thank heavens!" Meg cried as she ran to meet her mother in an embrace, "did you find him?"

"I did," the old woman said, "and we will be seeing him again," she smiled and quickly walked with her daughter out of the theatre.


	4. The Ghostly Meeting

_**Chapter 4: The Ghostly Meeting.**_

Meg and her mother walked quickly through the theatre, to the office of the managers where the monkey music box rested and where the managers restlessly awaited her return. She pushed open the door without knocking and through the letter on the desk, "you are to return the monkey should you like to meet your phantom," she said as she pointed at the music box that sat horrificly still on a shelf and who's eyes followed every move of that the two men made.

"Take the dreadful thing, it watches and judges us with its eyes," Andre said as he thrust the monkey into Madame Giry's hands. She passed it gently to Meg who held it, safely, close to herself.

"What did he say Madame?" Firmin asked, "you must tell us."

"Everything you need to know is in this note," she said pointing, with her cane, to the note on the table.

"Oh, and thus it starts again," Andre said with a sigh as he fell into his desk chair.

Firmin grabbed at the letter and hesitated to open it. He fumbled with the edge of the envelope, remembering the past and fearful of the future. Finally he tore the top and pulled out a singer piece of yellowing paper. "My dear Monsieurs..." he read,

_My Dear Monsieurs,_

_I have left you alone for a period of three years and it pleases me that you have finally come to the conclusion just how important I am to the theatre. I do however feel that you are still very couwardly to send a poor woman to find me. I challenge you now to both stand up to the challenge and face me. In two days time, at the stroke of midnight, I will meet you on the steps of the Daae crypt. Come alone and unarmed or you're theatre faces ruin, and not by my hands. I wash them clean if you do not come._

_Your faithful servant_

_The Phantom_

"Well that's settled then," Firmin said as he shakingly placed the note on the desk, "we shall meet him in two days time, at the stroke of midnight, in the cemetery," his voice cracked with fear at the last words.

"He's going to kill us, its certain!" Andre said as he nervously wiped his brow.

"Oh don't be so melodramatic," Madame Giry scolded, "he is considering your offer and prefers to meet you on his own terms where he feels most comfortable. You are the ones who deceived him before!" she said and turned to leave.

"You are certain he wont harm us then," Andre asked as he stood.

"So long as you agree to ALL his terms," She said slyly and motioned for Meg to follow.

Two restless nights and two worrisome days past before the meeting with the Phantom was to take place. This long bit of time was to much for the managers who played over scenes of their demise more so then the ideas of saving the theatre. They paced the theatre halls filled with more nervousness then on the days that they knew that the theatre was occupied by a man infatuated with their singers.

Finally, as dusk approached, a carriage was called to come to the side entrance of the theatre. It was to be a covered carriage, one that would make sure that the managers would not be seen coming or leaving the cemetery. A message was sent to the managers that the carriage had arrived and they bolted themselves in their office to ready for their journey to the cemetery. An hour passed slowly as the sun completely set behind the opera popular. They paced silently in front of the windows waiting for the return of their driver, who had stopped for a bit to eat before his night journey.

Suddenly a note flew under the door. It stopped at both of the mens feet with the seel of the Phantom staring up at them. The wax was red as blood and the skull that was backed by the black crosses of the seems of the letter looked like that of the pirates jolly roger. Their hearts rose to their throats as they both hesitated to pick up the evil looking mass on the floor. Finally after a long silent scuffle, Firmin was forced to pick up the letter. He forced it violently into Andre's hand. He now had to opened the dreadful thing,

_Gentlemen,_

_I am happy to see that you have called for a carriage, your driver has been warned not to stick around and only to return after one full hour has passed, no sooner or no later. I anticipate a wonderful chat with the two of you. See you at midnight._

_O.G_

_P.S. Next time you find yourselves a coachman, see to it that he is not an alcoholic. This could lead to very dangerous driving._

The two managers rushed to the door of their office to get a glimpse of the Phantom but they were well to late after their hesitation toward the letter. Running back across the office to the window they noticed their coachman back with his horses, soaked through to the bone, with a smashed wine bottle and wooden bucket on the ground beside the carriage. Andre and Firmin looked hesitantly at each other.

"Do you think it is only our nerves?" Andre asked as he grabbed a flask out of his coat pocked.

"Yes, yes, our nerves that's right," Firmin said and grabbed a bottle of a brown alcohol off the shelf and downing a healthy half inch of its content.

"Shall we then?" Andre said nervously at the door.

"After you," Firmin said holding the door open.

"I insist, after you," Andre smiled.

"Oh just get going!" Firmin growled and forced Andre out the door.

It was cold, in Paris, for a summer night. The long rural road to the old cemetery was dark. The only light was the light from the carriages. Crickets sang as the wind rustled the trees. Owls and other night birds sang they sinister, nightly hymns as the carriage passed. Animals of the forest ran about behind the carriage. Wolves could be heard further off in the distance and soon the dark iron bars of the cemetery gates could be seen in the distance. The night ride had taken several hours and as the carriage neared the gates Andre nervously checked his pocket watched.

"We have ten minutes to get there, do you think we will make it?" he asked his partner with a worried tone.

"If not we will be fashionably late," Firmin said sounding more calm than he had all evening.

"Ha, ha... Fashionably," Andre said nervously and placed his watch back into his pocket.

The carriage slowed to a stop at the gate. It was only open a small crack but was lit by a single fire torch. Firmin stepped down from the carriage followed by Andre who clung to the edge of his cloak.

"Oh get off," Firmin said pulling the fabric for Andre's hands.

"Sorry,"

They stepped away from the carriage fearfully and cautiously looking in all directions around them. Suddenly the horses of the carriage took off with a crack of the drivers whip. They were left alone at the gates of the ancient cemetery.

"I never used to believe in ghosts, but they now seem quite plausible," Andre choked as he stepped into the cemetery behind Firmin.

"Oh hush," he was scolded.

They walked silently passed the old, wearing tomb stones. One by one they passed, their steps ever slowing as they came closer and closer to the Daae crypt. The eyes of the angels seemed to watch them. The hair on the back of their necks stood on end. The chill of the night caused their breath to vaporised as they breathed and walked through the darkness.

"This quite possibly wasn't the best idea in the world," Firmin said finally feeling the fear that Andre had been cursed with.

"Not at all," Andre whispered as they came to the steps of the Daae crypt.

"Are we late?" Firmin asked as he looked around and did not see anyone with them in the cemetery.

"A little," Andre said as he looked at his watch.

"Do you think he left?" Firmin asked as he looked at the trembling Andre who stared off, completely horror stricken into a dark shadow, " what is it?" Firmin asked, Andre could only point into a shadow where a set of brilliant blue cats eyes, large as the stars, shown hungrilly at them, "what on earth is that?" Firmin asked as he leaned closer seeing a puff of somethings breath rise from the shadow. A low growl was heard and soon the eyes were moving. Slow, stalking in the darkness of the night.

"It's the devil," Andre cried as he hid behind Firmin.

"I think we should stay very still," Firmin whispered as he grabbed Andre's arm and held him in place, "don't move an inch," he said as the eyes came closer.

Soon a huge white paw stepped out of the darkness. Followed by legs of white and black stripe and soon the head and face of a giant, white tiger. The large cat growled as it came closer to them, the tip of its long tail dragging and twitching along the ground. Its body was hunched low. Its eyes hungry and round. Its breath thick as the night air. It walked in a slow circle, silent as the wind around them. Its ears twitched with every sound that the two men tried not to make. Its long, pink tongue moved over its open mouth and its great white teeth. Closer and closer the cat crept.

Sweat poured down both mens face. They shook with fear as they stared into the eyes of this giant white beast. Its stripes seemed to move with the shadows of the night. It stepped lightly around them and yet they could feel it coming closer and closer to them. Andre jumped and screamed as the cats tail twitched and struck the edge of his coat.

The cat became agitated at the sound that the man made. It moved quicker around them. Its growl became louder and harsher. Its feet hit the ground harder. It stopped and looked at Andre. The mouth of the beast fell open and a great, horrific yelled emerged from the very depths of the cat.

"Oh its going to kill us!" Andre yelled and turned to run.

The cat pounced and Andre hit the ground. It roared again into Andre's face as saliva dripped from the teeth of the cat.

"Tangae!" They heard a voice come from no where and the cat moved off. It walked slowly up the steps of the Daae crypt and laid down at the top, "She's getting restless, you're late." the voice came again as a figure came from out of the shadows and stood beside the great cat. The shadow man placed a gloved hand on the head of the cat who seemed to adore the touch from the master that commanded her.

"We've come late on account of our driver needed to dry off a bit," Firmin said as he came closer to the steps. The cat growled again and he stepped back.

"He needed to sober up, to ensure a safe journey for you gentleman," the figure said as he removed the hood of his cloak. From beneath it came a familiar but horrific face. A face without a mask. The face of the ghost and phantom of the opera.

Andre and Firmin stood silently staring up at the face and the eyes as yellow as fire. The scaring on the face cast shadows in the night and the person or ghost before them appeared to not posses a nose or a mouth only black voids.

"What is your offer, if I do agree to help you," The phantom said breaking the dark horrific silence.

"W..we have brought you...fi...fifty thousand franks," Andre said shaking.

"What do I want fifty thousand franks for? I have not taken you twenty thousand franks for years," the phantoms voice boomed.

"We must pay our composers, fifty thousand franks for the commission of a new opera. To be performed at the opera popular," Firmin said taking the envelope from the terrified Andre and walking closer than before to the cat and its master. Reaching out with the envelope in his hands he watched the phantom look upon it, "we will also continue you're monthly payments of twenty thousand franks and reserve box five for you at all time."

"No one dares sit in box five anymore. To much paranoia," the phantom said.

"You will have full creative control of the opera," Andre said from behind Firmin.

"What do you mean by FULL control?" the phantom said and the tiger moved pushing Andre and Firmin back again.

"Your casting, your orchestra, your sets. Everything and anything you want is yours," Andre said nervously.

"Fantastic," Erik laughed.

"We are at your disposal," Firmin added.

"We are just asking that you save the theatre," Andre said finally breaking down in tears, "we are at the end of the line, we need a miracle from you."

"I can see that," Erik said as he came down the steps, leaving the tiger behind, "I'll do what you ask and accept your offers," he said snatching the money from Firmin's hands, "Madame Giry is to be in charge of all of my affairs, she is the only person that you are to talk to about anything and you are NOT to come looking for me at any time. If I need to see you I will come to you, is that clear?"

"Crystal," they both said in unison.

"Good," he said and pulled a white horse out of the shadows. He mounted the horse whispered its name into its ear and petted its neck gently, "you'll see the opera in a few days time. At which point it is to go directly to Monsieur Reyer, who is to start the rehearsals with the orchestra. I will be present, though you will not see me, and you will NOT look for me. I will decide then if we need different musicians or further orchestration. When the orchestra is ready we will begin our casting of the opera. I will keep you informed as to when this will occur."

"May we announce anything to the public?" Firmin asked with a hint of excitement in his voice.

"No," The phantoms voice boomed, "nothing is to be said without my knowledge first. If it does not pass my eyes it does NOT go to print!"

"Fair enough," Andre said as he noticed some anger in the eyes of Firmin.

"Should you not follow my instructions to the very root and core or their being then the opera will be pulled from the stage or I will burn the theatre to the ground!" Erik said and walked the horse slowly around to face the gates of the cemetery.

"Oh please not again," Andre whined.

"Don't make me do it again," Erik said looking into Andre's eyes, "keep Firmin in check and things should run smoothly."

"We are only your servants, Monsieur le Phantom," Andre said and Firmin nodded.

"All we request is you keep that beast out of the theatre," Firmin said pointing fearfully at the tiger.

"Tangae wouldn't hurt a fly," The phantom laughed and with a great leap the cat flew over the heads of the managers and landed beside the horse, "but I could always teach her too, heed my warnings!" he said and with a flash of white the horse and the cat were gone.

Andre and Firmin watched as the dust flew up from the horses feet and the cat bounded along into the darkness of the night.

"Well that went well," Andre nervously laughed.

"We are pons," Firmin grumbled.

"It was your idea," Andre said angrily as their carriage reappeared at the gate.

"Lets get out of here," Firmin said as he, still shaking, grabbed Andre's arm and pushed him toward the carriage.


	5. Escape to the Darkness

_**Chapter 5: Escape to the Darkness.**_

Pounding, pounding all around. Quick paced and drowning. Banging, crashing, screaming with the rising of a storm or the coming of the sun. It could be heard in the darkness of the night. The landscape moved by quickly, shadows staring and judging. Branches grabbed, like cold dead fingers out of the darkness, and tor at his cloak. The wind was cold and dry. It laughed, it howled, it screamed. The summer night felt more like that of autumn filling his nose with the smell of rot and decay. The trees danced with the force of the wind. Clouds were rolling in over the moon and the stars. Someone or something had angered the elements. The spirits of the night were disturbed and angry. They were restless in the darkness. They were furious. Voices, hundreds of them, speaking in hundreds of tongues teased and taunted. Madness was the destination, true and horrible madness.

Erik road onward into the darkness, following a road no longer travelled by man. He fled for his life along this path. He glanced over his shoulder, no one was following but he could hear voices all around him. He could not move fast enough. His head was spinning in circles. The scene from the cemetery playing over and over in his mind. The faces of the managers becoming more distorted and sinister every minute. The wind rushed at his bare face. His cape flew up behind him as he pushed Cesar to the limits of his speed. His heart pounded faster with every beet made by the landing of the horse on the ground. The steady drumming of its hooves was like the call to march; a death march to his own demise. His mind was clouded with screaming and laughing. Words he didn't understand came rushing at him. Pity, mercy, forgiveness, where was it now? He was breathing heavily, out of breath and filled with a feeling that hadn't over come him in a great long time. Fear and anger was over coming his entire being. Erik was terrified, petrified, mortified. Every and any emotion was hitting him with the full force of the wind. He felt ill. He felt dizzy. What had he done? Blackness flashed before his eyes. Balance was leaving him. A strange tightness restricted his breathing. He was panicking. He was in shock. Tangae struggle to keep up with the horse, who ran fast as the lightning that began to flash through the forest trail. She bounded over rocks and stumps trying to stay as close as possible but it was like they were fleeing from the dawn and the waking of the world. Fleeing into the storm and the dangers that turned the tides of life.

"Whoa," Erik said as he pulled the reigns and slowed the horse down. The Cat dug its claws into the soft earth trying hard not to come into a collision with its master or the horse. Erik climbed down slowly and fell to his knees. He felt nauseous and flushed. He ripped off his cloak to reveal tattered clothing, old and ragged. Things he thought he should be wearing as a ghost and a corps. He fell onto all fours his hands digging deep into the ground as voices, in his head, swirled with laughter. He shut his eyes and felt himself fall. He hit the ground hard and groaned as he rolled onto his side. He lay on the cold earth, the side of his face in the black, fragrant soil. The rain hit him hard as the dirt became moist. His hand wrapped around his head as it pounded. Stinging pain and pressure developed behind his eyes. His world was spinning in circles. His heart was racing. He could hardly breath and when he did the rain was inhaled. He coughed as the water and dirt hit the back of his throat. His body was hot and cold all at the same time. Tears of pain and fear filled his eyes and mixed with the cold rain. He sat up as the tiger came near to him. She startled him. He jumped away from her, his eyes blurred from the mud and the rain. Then his mind cleared momentarily. He felt the paper in a pocked. He ripped from his old warn vest pocket, the envelope and slammed the money onto the damp ground, "what have I done?" he whispered to the cat who came to his side and nuzzled him gently, "Tangae, what have I done?" he said again as his face fall into the silver, white fur of the great cat, "they have seen you, I have betrayed you."

The cat purred lovingly toward its master and laid in the mud and the water by his side.

"I am no longer what I have wished to be, a corps, a memory, a ghost. I am again the feared and the loathed. A wild beast bringing fear and death. All I wanted was to be forgotten," he said softly as he curled childishly into a ball. He pulled his knees closed to his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around them. He rocked himself back and forth and watched anxiously as the shadows danced and the lightning flashed, in the darkness, "this is not what I want to be but have I any other choice. If the opera is not saved, then we will be hunted like your mother. No one will be around to save us this time," he said looking at the tiger. He forcefully rubbed and cracked his knuckles. He blinked his eyes harshly and irregularly. His breathing was shallow and quick but not as it should be, "they'll find me you know," he said as he looking into the cats blue eyes, "...us... they'll take you away from me, kill you, skin you, hang you on a wall like a trophy. How could I let them see you, not even Christine laid eyes on you! They'll parade me around like a circus freak and hang me as an example for my crimes. But my music, what else could I do for my music? To make it heard? To save us a home till our dying days?" he asked as he rocked more violently, "it is my obsession, my cures and my downfall."

Cesar had walked circles around his master and watched as his countenance changed. He stood close, protecting the beings that lay on the ground, in the mud and the water. The rain had become harsher. The thunder crashed and screamed in the atmosphere. The lightning struck the ground unforgivingly. Vapour came from his nose as he breathed in and out. His eyes glowed yellow in the flashes of light. He looked like a demon himself on this the road to hell. He made harsh noises in all directs to keep away the predators, and nervously glanced around up and down the unused road. It was dark and yet the clouds moved fast. Shadows of the trees and the rocks moved like spirits in the night, or perhaps they were the spirits coming to fetch Erik to return him finally the darkness of the underworld.

They had left the cemetery and the managers of the opera and travelled down a road that ran along the back side of the well populated cemetery. The storm was off in the distance as they left, it was building now in force. Back behind the cemetery was an abandoned church, one not used for ages. The walls were moss covered, the windows and doors gone. The roof had long since caved in and trees now crept out through the openness. Behind this structure of rock and wood was an old and abandoned road. The road ran from the back of the church off into the forest to a place that was no longer visited by human beings and hadn't been for a good long time before Erik had even set foot on Parisian soil. It was a path to hell, he had called it when he first found it and travelled it. It was a path travelled only by the ghosts now and Erik had, for many years, been one of them. It was by this road that he first found his lake and his shelter when his youth brought him to hide in Paris. He lived wild in the old church with his pet until he found his way beneath the city to a place that captured his imagination and held the soul that he had long ago lost. It had become his sanctuary, his home and his playground. He learned much about life from watching the operas and had forgotten many of the cruelties of the real world. Until his fantasy world was shattered again by heart break and more murder.

His life at the opera hadn't been completely constant. The desires of youth did take him, on many occasions, away from Paris and into the darkness of the world. It was on one such occasion that his beloved companion did come to his arms. He had been taken onto an expedition with his expertise. He was young and unknowing at the time but well versed in capture by lasso. He had watched as a man stalked and killed a beautiful orange cat in the jungle of India. The kill was not that harsh on the young Erik it was what was to come later. The man, hunter, had spotted the cubs of the cat laying low in the brush. Taking more pleasure in the idea of a trophy of white baby fur without the stripes was more than Erik could bear. To kill for fur and status was falling into the root of all evil. The cubs were defenceless without their mother and this man would kill for beauty. Erik hadn't been quick enough to save the two. The shot sounded like thunder as the red blood stained the white of the baby. His lasso fell around his guides neck and not hesitating Erik strung him up next to the mother beast to be found later. Shaking and crying the smaller of the two cubs, the female only weeks old, was scooped into the young Erik's arms and he disappeared, never to be seen again in India.

Erik sat defenceless in the mud and the water next to his cherished one. She had been with him for many years, nursed to her health by a young outcast of the world she became his companion and never looked upon him with fear again. The thunder broke the silence of the night as the images of Tangae's struggle flashed once more in Erik's eyes. He heard her cries louder than the voices that clouded his mind. He let out a sob and buried his face in her white and chocolate stripped fur.

"I have failed you both," Erik said as he covered his face with his filthy hands and sobbed, "I am no protector for the week or the innocent. I am just a danger, a threat to your well being. You must leave me! Years do not change who you are I will always be a murderer," he said as he pushed into the soft fur of the cat. She moved closer, placed her giant head at his feet in a puddle that had been forming. "I know you have no were to go, you never have, my pet," he whispered to the cat, "since the day I found you, when we were both young and foolish. You but a cub without a mother and me the same. We are like family. Beast in all the eyes of the world. You are my only loved ones and shall always be that way. I will keep you hidden and well cared for. If I must kill to save your lives I will do so again," he said as he stood up shaking, "The Opera will be finished, I will do it for you." Erik placed his hands softly on the animals head and ran his fingers through the silk like fur. The cats ears twitched and she raised her head to look into her masters eyes. He grinned as the blue eyes fell lovingly on him. The only eyes that had always loved and never feared.

He stood shaking and week, leaning heavily on the cat for balance. He still felt sick to his stomach and unable to, really, comprehend what he had done, out in the cemetery, that evening. But the sun would be rising, to push away the storm and he had to hide his precious away from the world.

Cesar became calm as the man stood and placed a shaking hand on his neck. The horse knew the path, a path well travelled by the ghosts. He would lead his master to the place by the river. The place where they would escape to darkness and comfort again.

Erik reached up to pull himself into the saddle that was mounted on the horses back. He felt week, his arms and his legs could hardly lift him. Tangae place her head close to Erik's back and with a mighty push he was forced back onto the horse.

The journey was slow and nearly painful, as the wind and the clouds brought forth more and more rain. It was a fierce rain, pouring down loud and hard on the travellers. The steps of the horse and the cat matched each other as the phantom, like an old man, hunched over in the saddle. His head was hung low, he had left his cloak to rot in the earth along with the money that he was given. The cold rain ran down his mask less face, dripping off his nose and over his lips. He hoped it would wash away some of his sins and cleanse his soul. His hands shook from cold as he held onto the reigns. Cesar and Tangae moved on through the pouring rain never slowing, it was their turn to protect and save.

They arrived at a river that ran across the uncharted road. It ended with the rushing water that ran perpendicular to it. Across the rushing water the other end of the road could be seem but it stopped abruptly by a line of thick trees. The trees had grown in thick and dark when the road was no longer used. Cesar stepped cautiously into the rushing water as Tangae remained on the other bank. It was a slow crossing but before long the horse and its passenger had made it safely across. The large cat followed stepping easily into the water that came quickly up to its neck and moved fast over its body, but soon she too made it across and they looked strangely at the wall of dark trees. Erik, slowly removed himself from the horse and pulled the reigns over the horses head. He walked hunched over, soaking wet and shivering to the line of trees. He pushed a few low lying branches out of the way and ducked under, the cat did the same and soon, struggling with the lowness of the entrance the horse did as well. The road did not continue through the trees. There on the other side was a whole different world. Greeted by two great stone pillars and ivy draped walls was another cemetery, the great gates were covered with creeping rose bushes and thorns. The iron gate was only parted enough for the travellers to enter. Small, warn head stones littered the forgotten cemetery. It was a small square place, boxed in on all sides by ivy and rose bushes. In the middle of the ground was a large crypt with doors that rose to a forty five degree angle to the ground. This mass of stone and moss dominated the silence of sacred place.

Erik walked slowly to the great crypt and pulled at a brass lock that held shut the heavy iron doors. He pulled a key from around his neck and placed it in the lock, with a click, it fell away and the door was able to open. The doors opened silently and easily for Erik, they were well used and the cat and the horse came closer as they lay open. Below the doors were marble steps, as white as the horse and the tiger. Torches were lit down at the bottom of the staircase where the ground became flat and the sound of water could be heard. Tangae and Cesar walked quickly down the stairs and watched as Erik closed the heavy doors behind them. They came down with a bang and the lock was replaced. Erik rested his hands against the cold doors of the crypt. Below his pets were safe again in the darkness of his world. He placed the key back around his neck and walked slowly around to the back side of the crypt. There, at the back of the monument was a solid stone wall. It was covered with moss and soaked by the rain. The sun has begun to show itself through the trees that circled the forgotten resting place and the clouds began to move off. The rain was easing as well and the thunder had diminished to a faint rumbling in the sky.

On the solid brick wall Erik leaned for a moment. His head was still throbbing and his hands still shook. He was soaked through and through and chills had taken over his entire body. The journey through the cold underground was not going to be easy on him but at the end of it all was his comfortable warm palace. He straightened up again taking a deep breath and focussing his attention back at the wall. To one side was a brick that looked to be loose. Erik reached out and pushed the brick in. Suddenly a small door at the base of the wall opened. It was no bigger then one of the white tomb stones and Erik had to get down on his stomach to get into it. On the inside was a rope that dropped down to the bottom of the stairs where his two pets waited.

Erik descended into the darkness of the underground passage. The rope hugged close to one wall, making it easy for him to simply walk down the wall with the aid of the rope. The rain continued to pour in through the small hole entrance. Erik stared up at it silently the rope still resting in his hands. His breathing was shallow, he looked tired and near collapsing but with a flick of his wrist the rope hit the wall hard. A rumbling was heard and soon the stones moved back into their place to hide the last of the secret tunnel.

At the base of the stairs the torches lit the underground river, it was the river that fed the lake, deep under the city. It flowed quickly in its banks of stone and brick. The far side of the river ran right against the wall. But the bank closest to the staircase was stopped by a coble stone walk way. The walk was wide enough and high enough for a horse and rider to travel along comfortable. Tangae moved along ahead as Erik remounted Cesar, "return to our safety while I rest," he said to the horse in a low voice. He sat, soaking in his tattered old cloths atop the horse, who followed the cat. The path led them deep under the city of Paris and ended at the doors of the house of the ghost.


	6. Panic of Silence

_**Chapter 6: Silent Panic.**_

The storm raged on as the carriage sped along the street, back into the heart of Paris. Thunder and lightning startled Andre with every loud rumble and sudden flash. Firmin stared straight ahead of himself at the other wall of the carriage. His face was white. Bags had begun to form under his eyes. His breathing was shallow and staggered. It was almost as if Firmin himself were near death. The Opera Ghost had affected him so immensely and the terror of the great cat was over whelming. How long had that great beast been dwelling in the Opera house without anyone knowing? Was there anything at all that could be done to be rid of it? Not without angering the Phantom but a still greater fear would be an attack by such a beast. Andre had also turned white with fear. He had gained some scrapes from the large cat but was more terrified if anyone would find out about it living withing the city.

Andre rubbed his hand together more and more nervously with every passing second. His thoughts were clouded by white and black stripes and huge glowing yellow eyes. The phantom, with one short meeting had become more frightening than ever before, because of the realisation of just how many tricks the man did have up his sleeve. To control magic, music, and just the mention of him instilled fear into people all over Paris. But now he was a tamer of animal, great beastly animals, what more could he have hidden in store. It was clear that he was able to keep these things great secrets and much travel must have been done by this man to gain such knowledge and companionship. It was obvious that they had under estimated him yet again. Was he really a man at all or some strange being able to control everything down to the wind and the rain. Was it he who has torn open the sky with the heavenly spectacle? Andre thought as another flash of lightning snapped him out of his trance. He jumped high out of his seat with a bit of a cry, his heart beating heavily in his chest.

"Secret Andre, we have to keep all of this secret," Firmin said still staring off into nothingness, "perhaps if we never speak of tonight, it will sees to exist even for us," he added his voice cracking.

"I shall have nightmare about this for the rest of my life Firmin, there is no doubt about that," Andre said a little frantically, "We've made a deal with the devil. Sold our souls. We should have just gone in search of a new fortune the old way!"

"Well the deal is done now," Firmin said calmly and looking over at Andre for the first time since entering back into the light soaked streets of the city, "we'll have to follow through now, I hope that the hard part is now finished. As long as we keep the Phantom happy and his payments coming we shouldn't have any more problems, right?" he asked seeming very unsure of the whole idea himself.

"I pray so," Andre said as the carriage stopped in front of the Opera house. Madame Giry and Monsieur Reyer stood waiting for their returned.

Andre and Firmin both stepped down from the carriage. The nights events had really affected both men. They looked exhausted, old, hunched over in the darkness of the storm. The rain poured down harsh on their backs and splashed up at their feet. Their clothing looked old, torn and soaking They were a vision of fear in themselves. Could a meeting with the phantom of the opera actually cause a man physical image to change? It seemed so in Andre and Firmin's case.

They walked slowly up the steps to the entrance to the theatre where Giry and Reyer waited. Madame Giry gasped as Firmin and Andre came into the light. The bags around their eyes were black, and their skin has lost its colour. White as ghosts they appeared in their dark travelling suits and hats. Their eyes were bloodshot, their pupils huge black disks. They were rather phantomeque in their new appearance.

"Monsieurs, you both look as though you have died yourself on your night journey," Madame Giry cried as she pulled the two of them out of the rain and into the brightly lit foyer.

Andre and Firmin said nothing, but moved hypnotically into the light. Their cloaks fell from their shoulders into a soggy pile on the floor as they continued to walk.

"Monsieurs what is the matter?" Madame Giry cried again as she and Monsieur Reyer tried to stop them from moving a long any further.

"You must tell us," Reyer said as he looked into the blank faces of Andre and Firmin, "will we have an opera?"

Andre and Firmin looked coldly up at Reyer, "yes," was their only reply.

The managers pushed on past Reyer and Giry and stepped lightly up the grand staircase, in the foyer, as they headed towards their office. No words were spoken between them. It was well into the evening hours now. The lightning still flashed outside the theatre as Andre and Firmin walked on.

"Monsieurs you look terrible, perhaps you have had enough of business for tonight. Go home, you need to rest," Madame Giry called after them.

The two men didn't stopped, the simply slugged on toward their office. Madame Giry followed after them as Reyer gave up to the rudeness of the Managers. She watched as they walked, zombie like through the dark hallways. No candles were lit, no torches burned and yet they walked on through the unrestful silence between thunder claps.

The two men stopped outside their office as if waiting for something. Madame Giry stepped closer, feeling a fearfulness around her. They both stared off into nothingness.

"Woman, come to us in the morning," Firmin said in nearly a whispered.

"The phantom must be paid," Andre added.

Madame Giry stared as the two then turned and walked into their little office. The door closed behind them and a click of the lock was heard in the silence of the night. Nothing else could be heard coming from within the office. A silence, like death, had fallen. It didn't even seem like the men had left the other side of the door after closing it. No foot steps were hears. No moving of chairs. Not even breathing could be made out as Madame Giry placed her ear on the door to try to make out anything. It was calm as sleep, interrupted only by the rumble of thunder.

What had Erik done to them? She asked herself as she stood in the darkness of the hallway. This was most strange behaviour indeed, they looked as sinister as the phantom himself. Their eyes burned red and appeared to have sunken into their heads. She had to find out and right away.

She spun on her toes, as ballerinas do, and fled back down the hall. Through the theatre she ran. Thunder could still be heard but the lighting had disappeared as the walls of the theatre became thicker and windowless. It was a dark night, dark things were happening, she could feel them and yet she ran on. Quick as she could she descended the hundreds of stairs into the darkness of the abyss beneath the opera house. She could hear water dripping in through new places, the sounds were changed from her first visit. Water rushed harsher when she came to the bottom. Filthy and swirling in the river that flowed.

Her pace quickened when the stairs were out of her sight. Why did she run so? She wondered as she continued along the path, travelling against the water. It was louder than before. It splashed up onto the walkway of the river bank. Even the air was wet and damp. She could feel it through her clothing. The bottom of her dress and feet becoming soaking wet and weighted he down. A feeling of worry, more than fear had taken over her countenance. Something seemed too wrong to affect the managers as it did. She ran on in the darkness, not knowing how far she had travelled. The sound of the water was loud and her ears rang from the noise. The water soaked through her slippers. Dampness, was thick in the warm air. Even in this underground place, the warmth of the summer had begun to penetrate. And yet she felt chilled. A great shiver ran up her spine. There was no stopping the coldness of feat and worry.

Yellow eyes appeared in the darkness ahead of her. Bright yellow cats eyes. She stopped and became dead still. Over the rushing of the water a rumbling could be heard, like a growl. She healed her breath. What beast was this and how could it come to live within the underworld of Paris. The eyes came closer and closer. She could feel the footsteps of the approaching beast over the rushing of the water. She was terrified. Was it here that she would meet her end. Closer and closer the animal came, her eyes had focussed now through the darkness. She could see the beast before her, its white strips moving, mist like, through the blackness. She held her breath as the giant cat brushed against her and walked behind her. Her eyes closed tightly, waiting for the impact of the great animal, but it did not come.

A nudge on her back pushed her forward a little, but it was a gentle push. Her eyes flew open. She looked back and there was the tiger, her head pressed into the small of her back and leading her through the dark. The head was huge and yet soft as silk. She felt another gentle nudge and she knew that the cat was trying desperately to lead her on. A warmth came over her body. This animal was domesticated. It was clear by its behaviour. It was worried and desperate. She moved on, lead by her new guide

Her steps became quick once again. The cat walked at her side. She placed one hand on its head to keep her balance on the very narrowing pathway. The animal didn't seem to mind. Her eyes were now completely focussed in the darkness, she could see before her, though the water sparkled wet and black as tar. She was nearing the wall, she knew she was, the water was foamy from the fall and soon she saw it. Below the wall, a mass, like rocks on the ground and a horse, white and brilliant in the darkness. What was it? The cat urged her on, its pace was quickening, a worried air came over it. "What is that?" she said out loud to the cat. The mass moved. The cat roared and leaped closer to the mass. It was a person, but who could it be down here in this darkness. The mass rolled over, coughing, gasping for air. The cat was frantic, trying to force the mass up off the wet ground. It was too much dead weight for the poor animal. Nothing was working. The horse stomped its hooves on the ground nervously. It too had grasped some of the fabric that encased the person on the ground. It pulled as well.

The face of the person became visible in the darkness. The eyes were shut but the look of worry and illness covered the disfigured face.

"Oh My Lord, Erik!" She cried and rushed to his side and hoisted his head off the ground and out of the water. She sat at his side holding him up and patting the water from his face with her sleeve, "something wicked has affect everyone tonight," she said looking up at the two animals.

The tiger came in closer and laid down beside Erik and Madame Giry. A silence fell between them as the water crashed around them.


	7. Motherly Worry

_**Chapter 7: Motherly Worry.**_

Madame Giry fought against the water that was splashing up, more violently than before against her as she tried harder and harder to pull Erik up, at least till he was sitting. The man was conscious but only barely, something was holding him back, as if he didn't want to be saved. His body was stiff and soaked through from whatever had happened. He nearly felt dead but she could still hear his breathing. She no longer felt the cold as she struggled to pull him, against his will, to try and save his life. She felt an obligation to help him, for it was she who had agreed to start this in the first place. The water was rising faster and faster around them. It would only be a matter of time before it was above the edge of the small path and they would be in very serious trouble.

"Erik, please, you have to listen to me, you have to try and sit up so that your pets can support you," she yelled over all of the noise, "if you can do that then I can get what I need to help you but I can't do this alone." she yelled, "please I am sorry for all of this. I should have never agreed to it in the first place."

The mass of wet cloths and dead weight, that was Erik shifted a little as Madame Giry pushed and pulled at him to move him. She breathed a sigh of relief but only a very small one. Tangae watched her attentively and then finally moved over to where her masters head was. She crawled along the wet ground, soiling her beautiful white and black fir and placing her body behind her masters so that he could lean on her.

"Good," Giry said as she placed a hand on the tigers head, feeling no fear toward the gentle beast, "now stay where you are and don't move until I return to with help, he needs to be out of this cold and wetness if we want to help him at all," she said looking into the cats yellow eyes. It seemed to her like the big feline understood every word and soon the horse had moved in and laid down to try and help support Erik as well. "You see Erik, even though you seem not to want to be save your pet will not let you do this to yourself. They rely on you to take care of them because there is no one else to do it and now they will do everything they can to help you. We will get you out of this and write whatever was made wrong. But for now you need to hang on. I'll be right back," Madame Giry said and ran back the way she had come.

The water splashed up around her feet as she ran though the darkness. Her eyes had adjusted to it and though it was very late in the evening she could not allow herself to feel the fatigue that had started to take over. Her worry had become stronger than any of the signals her body sent up to her. She would not rest until she knew that she had helped the pour man out of the rising water and found out all that she could of what had happened on that dreadful night.

Through the water and the noise she ran until she reached the stairs that lead up into the quiet of the theatre. She breathed deeply but could not allow herself to slow down or to rest. She hiked up the hem of her now soaking dress and began to run. She ran as quickly and as silently as she could. Her ears rang as the sound of the water died away and the stillness of the theatre began to come in around her. Floor after floor she ran and soon she was in the vast blackness that was the theatre but she didn't stop there. Up even further she ran, up through the ballet floors and passed the dormitories till she came to her daughters room. Meg had graduated to a private room in the theatre as some of the older ballerinas do. She banged frantically on the door to her daughters room.

"Mother what is the matter?" Meg gasped as she opened the door to her dripping mother, "where have you been?" she asked.

"No time Meg," her mother said as she flung some of the wet pieces of her clothing on the floor of the small room, "grab your smelling salts and a shall, that's all you be able to handle." she said as she through some more of her wet clothing onto the ground till she was left only with a damp dressing gown. She reached out and took a dry frock from Meg and then rushed for the door again.

"What is the matter," Meg asked frantically as she hurried to put her things into a small purse and ran after her mother.

"You have to keep it secret Meg," Madame Giry said as she held her daughters hand and they ran through the darkness, "I am taking you to the Phantom," she said as they began to head downward through the spiralling column of stairs.

"Is something the matter?" Meg asked as she ran more quickly.

"I believe so," madame Giry said with more of a whisper, "strange things are happening tonight. I believe I may be to blame for it all. The world is unpleased and the water is rising quickly we have to get them out of it," she said and they both fell into silence.

The noise of the rushing water grew louder and louder as they travelled further down the column of steps. At the bottom the water had begun to rise over the lip of the walk way and pooled beneath the bottom step.

"Are we to go into that?" Meg cried as she watched the water rush past her. Her eyes had not yet adapted to the darkness as completely as her mothers.

"We must, stay close to me and run," Madame Giry yelled over the sound and Meg obeyed.

Hiking up the bottoms of their skirts and splashing as they ran they made there way against the water. The travel was harder now than Madame Giry had earlier felt. It pulled her back toward where she had come and the ground beneath the water had become slippery and treacherous but still they pressed on. The water swirled all around them and grew deeper and deeper by the moment until finally they saw a patch of white in the darkness. The tiger still lay on the floor pushing its masters head above the water and struggling itself.

"Quickly," Madame Giry cried as she rushed to Erik's side, "the smelling salts," she said as she pulled the hood away from his face and revealed the disfigurement to Meg. His eyes were closed, his breathing very shallow and still he looked frightening. Meg hesitated for a moment before she gabbed onto the tiger to steady herself and pulled the small purse free from the ties of her bodice.

Madame Giry quickly passed the open bottle below Erik's nose and prayed out loud that it would work. Meg held her breath and could see the panic in the animals eyes. Suddenly Erik's eyes flew open and he gasped for air.

"Erik,"Madame Giry yelled, "can you here me?"

He breathed deep and shook all over.

"Erik answer me, please," Madame Giry begged, "are you hurt?"

"No," Erik said as he tried to push the woman away from him.

Tangae growled at him. Erik looked strangely at the cat at his side and then to his panicked horse and gave in to the help that had been offered to him, "no, I'm only week," he said forcing his voice.

"Is there an easier way to get you home?" Madame Giry asked. At the sound of the question Cesar stood from where he lay, "clearly I should have asked the horse in the first place," she said a little more lightheartedly as she tried to calm the worry in Meg's face.

"Can you get up onto the horse?" Meg asked as she stooped down to Erik.

"You should ride, my dear," Erik said as he tried to force himself up.

"Clearly not," Meg said as she reached out and grabbed his arm as he began to slip back to the ground.

"Is there an easier way than through this wall?" Madame Giry asked again this time more forcefully to Erik.

"Yes," he said as he leaned against Meg, "through the way I brought you out."

"Back at the stairs," she said to Meg.

"You'll have to ride, Monsieur," Meg said as she supported him, "it would take us to long and the water is growing to strong for you to walk on and will be far to deep for all of us very soon."

"You'll ride with him," Madame Giry said as she looked deep into Meg's eyes, "we can't chance him falling off the horse and being swept down with the wild current.

It wasn't an easy task to get Erik onto Cesar's back. He was drenched through from the water and the ground had become quite slippery. It had risen now up to their knees and though the horse would get them out of the water it would still be a slow trip back to the stairs. With much effort and shoving from Meg, her mother and Tangae, Erik was finally draped over the horses back.

"Quick Meg," Madame Giry said as she pushed Erik further into the saddle, "you'll have to be his balance, I'll be behind you with the Tangae," she said as she rested a tired hand on Tangae's head.

"Are you sure mother?" Meg asked as she stood before the great white steed, "you look terrible and I could make it much easier by foot then you could right now.

"No, you will ride," She said as forcefully as if she was running rehearsal, "quickly child before he loose his balance again."

Meg grabbed hold of the saddle and swung herself up behind the Phantom. She reached around his waist and grabbed at the reigns that he held loosely in his hand, "Alright Monsieur," she said holding him tightly, "off we go."

Madame Giry watched a moment as Meg eased the horse down the passage as close to the wall as she could stay. Erik remained balanced in front of her and yet he sunk low as he road. He looked old and defeated, not at all the fright he had once been. She felt a deep sinking feeling as she watched him. So much of his mystery was lost now and he seemed to have lost far to much to keep himself going. This realisation was terrifying for the old woman, she felt guilty for not leaving him to live out his life and yet she had seen the hope in his eyes when they had met. How could things have all gone so wrong in such a short period of time. The theatre was once again thrown into the magic of the Phantom, only this time he seemed not to be in control of it anymore. Her panic didn't last long, however, the great cat had become impatient. She had grabbed hold of Madame Giry's sleeve and was pulling her after the horse.

The water moved them along quickly. Madame Giry had lost sighed of Meg and the Phantom in the darkness of the underground river and had almost last herself to the moving water but Tangae held tight to her sleeve and after a while she held tight to the tigers wet fir. Soon they came to the stairs. The water had risen high over the first few steps and the horse was no where to be seen. Madame Giry was beginning to feel the fatigue as she started to climb up the steps. The wetness was sinking in to her skin. She was chilled right through but had to carry on upward. Away from the rising water and into the silence. She vowed to herself that she would not rest until she saw that the Phantom was safe.

Above, Cesar walked on. His pace had quickened once his hooves were free of the rushing water. The climb up the steps had become harder on Meg. The weight of the man in the saddle leaned heavily on her and she felt herself slipping back further on the horse but she held tight and persevered, not allowing herself to be defeated that easily. Finally he stopped in mid climb and looked at a bare patch of the brick wall.

"Why have you stopped?" Meg asked as she tugged at the reigns and brought herself back up into a comfortable position on his back.

"The door is there," Erik said almost in a whisper, "twenty seven brick up on the right side of the step. This step on which Cesar stands, you'll find a loose brick, push it and the door will appear," he added heavily as he struggled still to breath.

"Shall I wait for the others, Monsieur?" she asked still holding tightly to his waist and listening to him struggle to breath.

"They are coming," He said, "find the brick and they will be with us to carry on." he said and forced himself to sit as straight as he could, "I'll be fine," he said but it was taking all of the strength that he had left to keep himself there.

Meg hoped down from behind him and crouched down on the cold steps of the column. She counted the bricks and soon found the one that he had mentioned. Behind her she could hear footsteps in the passage and held her breath. Her mother appeared with the cat below and she pressed the brick. A grinding sound followed and the wall began to move. Meg hurried back to the horse and pulled herself back up behind the Phantom, taking hold of him again as his strength had begun to fail him. She held him up and watched as the cat bounded into the passage before them.

"Will the door close behind us?" she asked Erik.

"No," he said softly, "the brick has to be pushed back into place.

"Mother, you'll have to do it," Meg said as Cesar began to move into the passage, "you can see the protruding brick just push it back when we are all safely in the passage.

Madame Giry followed silently and did as she was told. The grinding noise returned and the door closed behind them. Suddenly they were plunged into a blacker darkness then before. Their eyes didn't adjust to the darkness, there was nothing to lead them on.

"Take hold of Tangae," Erik said as he struggled to look at Madame Giry, "she'll lead you through the darkness. Cesar will take hold of her tail and we'll be lead by her to where we need to go."

The blackness before them and all around them was total. One could not see anything before them. It felt like they weren't travelling at all but merely floating in the darkness. But they were moving along the passage. Slowly but surely they went on. The passage seemed to climb up, though there were no stairs it still rose. They were all silent as they carried on. The only sound in the darkness was the forced breathing of the Phantom.

Finally the ground levelled out and a light appeared at the end of the tunnel. Some noise had also returned like the sweet, musical sound of bird.

"It is not yet morning is it?" Meg asked as she saw the light and heard the birds.

"No," Erik said, "its just another world."

Meg fell silent again as they walked toward the light a sudden fear came over her and yet it was an excited fear. Were they really coming upon a place that so many had searched for and no one had ever found. It was a wonder to think that the Phantom could create and entire would below the ground and yet she was afraid to see what he kept there. Would it be a world of torture and hatred or was it a peaceful place. The light and the sounds seemed promising enough but looks can sometimes be deceiving. It became bright and brighter every moment and the cat and the horse moved quicker and quicker. Madame Giry had begun to run with the animals as the went on.

Erik was growing heavier again. His head drooped down and his body sagged as Meg held tightly onto him. He could feel himself fading away again. His clothing had become so heavy, he wanted to shed every bit of it and just lay in the warm light of his own place. Sleep was calling to him a restful happy sleep. He had felt that he wanted only to let the water swallow him up only hours before but now the kindness he had been feeling from these two women and the love of his pet made him want to carry on. A welcome fatigue had come over him, one that would almost be restful away from the worry and yet it seemed so far away. There before him was the light and the sounds of his safety and a trust had developed between him and the woman who held him to the horse. They were coming nearer to the light now soon he would be safe. He saw before him the green of his underground world and then his mind faded back to darkness as he passed out in Meg's arms.


	8. To Look Without Fear

_**Chapter 8: To look without fear.**_

Meg felt the weight of the man in her arms. They had reached the warmth and the light of the green space just as he fell limp and began to loose balance on the horses back. It was a beautiful place and yet a fear stuck Meg that she could have never imagined, it was a fear of holding onto death. At one time, the phantom of the opera have been viewed as death itself but Meg could not feel that way about the being that she rode with. This was a completely different death she was thinking of. The worry was terrifying and complete, was the Phantom alright? She couldn't tell. He had begun to slip from the horses back as they entered onto the moss covered ground. Meg held onto him with all of her remaining strength and eased the horse forward. Before they had cross half of the moss covered ground Meg couldn't hold on any longer.

"Mother," Meg yelled as she pulled Cesar to a stop, "something is wrong."

Madame Giry and the large cat ran to the horses side and managed to catch Erik as he slowly slid down to the ground. His clothing were soaking wet and cold from the water and so were Meg's. All the extra weight on them both was now working against them. Water still dripped off of the horses back and off of every piece of clothing that the Phantom worse. Meg shivered from the cold and had tossed her shall to the ground as her mother had come closer. She put the chill out of her mind, there were more serious things to worry about now. She jumped down after him and watched as the horse shivered with cold, it too had been feeling the weight and the discomfort of the water.

"At least we made it this far," Madame Giry said as they lay Erik on the ground, many of the smaller animals now running to them.

"But there is so much more to do now," Meg said as she paced beside the horse, "these two creatures are cold and wet. The Phantom is quite possibly dying we cannot tell and we are down in the earth far from any help, mother, really what are we to do?"

"Make do," Madame Giry said firmly as she untied the cape from around Erik's neck and struggled to discard it. She then moved on to his suit jacket, "now help me being him into the house," she said as she had removed as much of the wet clothing as she dare remove, "once in the house we can set him by a fire and hope that, that will help to revive him."

Silently Meg did as she was told. She grabbed hold of the Phantom, by the arms and lifted him off the ground. Madame Giry took his feet and they made their way awkwardly across the green space. Tangae had pulled at all of the wet clothing that lay on the mossy ground and dragged them behind as she followed the two women.

Meg gasped with awe as she reached the doors to the grand house and pushed them open. It was a normal house, but upper class by any standard. It was nothing like the darkness they had seen. The colours were rich and bright and new. The house was clean and organised and though it was bright with light and colour there were no windows to the outside world. They walked as quickly as they could to a near by room and placed Erik on a luxurious sofa that sat before a fire place. The hearth was cold but near to it there lay wood and other items to get a fire started. Madame Giry went in search of blankets and dry thing as Meg set to work at the dark fire place. By the time her mother had returned with, what looked like a wool blanket and a night shirt, Meg had a roaring fire that lit the whole room and had moved on to the lamps and candle that occupied the tables and the walls of the rest of the room.

"I think it would be best Meg if you went and relieved the horse of its saddle and bridle as I stay here with Erik. Leave me your smelling salts and go.

She did as she was told and quickly ran out of the house. A strange uneasiness had taken hold of her entire being as she saw the world around her, far below the world above. It was a beautiful, quiet place, and yet the knowledge that it was below the earth was a bit frightening. Once she was back out in the openness of the green space things didn't seem as bad. The ceiling was high and made of a red coloured brick. The designs of it were geometric and had no clear beginning or end but it was beautiful all the same. The stream that flowed across the moss overed field was quiet and calming, much different from the river they had fled. The flowers and trees in pots were a lovely addition to the world below the ground. The more she looked around the more amazed she felt and the more comfortable she began to feel. It was clear that the Phantom wasn't like other men or even the man they he had been made out to be. He was a quiet gentle person and his pets and his garden were reflective of a man who lived a lonely but a happy life.

As she walked around the green space more and more of the little creatures, from tropical looking birds to rabbits and squirls came and investigated the new person. Tangae lay near the small stream primping her white and black fir as Cesar paced uncomfortably near a small manger in a corner. She walked quickly to the horses side and lay her gentle hand on his wet body.

"How uncomfortable," she said out loud as a shiver ran down her spine. She too was still feeling damp as she began to removed the wet saddle and blanket from the horse back. With every move she made the horse seemed to relax more and more. She found a brush and a barrel of oats set aside. Placing a small amount of the oats in the manger and pulling the remains of the horses bridle from its mouth she aloud it to eat as she bushed the dirt of its beautiful white body.

Once she had finished and the large cat had come to join them she too felt calmer and warmer under the bright lights of the open space. A large red bird had landed itself on the other side of the manger and had shared in the horses meal. The tiger on the other hand seemed anxious now. Pacing quickly between the corner stable and the door to the house, Meg got the impression that the cat wanted its own dinner and that, that would be found inside. She had finished what she was sent out to do and was certain that her mother would be finished inside so she stepped quickly after the Tiger and up to the doors again.

Tangae rushed in and down another hallway, as of yet unexplored, by either Meg or her mother. She didn't dare follow the cat, for fear of feeling rude and walked into the small salon where her mother was sitting silently on the floor near the sofa.

"He's resting quietly now," she said as she motioned to the mass bundled on the sofa. He didn't look at all threatening anymore. His mask lay on a side table and his face shown red where his scares were, the rest of his face almost looked handsome next to the disfigurements.

"They'll wonder were we are," Meg said quietly as her gaze moved to her mother.

"I don't dare leave him alone," Madame Giry said as she held tight to Erik's cold hand, "I don't know what had come over him. He shouldn't be a lone as long as this illness is with him."

"Let me stay with him," Meg said finally as she knelt down on the floor beside her mother, "the ballerina's need you in the morning and you have yet to sleep tonight. I can get out of class in the morning and work on my own time. Besides the longer you are gone the more likely anyone is to realise it."

"You're right my darling," Madame Giry said as she took her daughters face in her hands, "but if I am to leave I may not be able to find my way back."

"You should not need to come back," Meg said bravely, "I'll be able to find my way up once the Phantom is well enough to be alone. Until then I will be fine and remain here with him."

Madame Giry hesitated for a moment before getting up and walking toward the door, "I found a kitchen down the hall and to the right," she said as she motioned with her hip, "I am sure that you'll find much in reserve down there should you need anything."

"I'll only go between here and there if I can manage it," Meg smiled and looked to the candles and the fire, "everything will be fine mother," she smiled and watched as her mother disappeared.

The big empty house fell silent, expect for the crackling of the fire and an occasional sigh from the man who lay on the sofa. Meg felt an emptiness and her uneasiness return but she forced it away from herself. Pulling herself reluctantly off the floor she moved to sit in a chair closer to the fire and settled herself in it. The Phantom lay to her right. She kept her eyes on him as she sat and rested her head against the high back of the chair. Tangae entered threw the door after a long silence and placed herself near the fire as well. The large cat let out a long sigh and fell silent herself. Meg couldn't help but feel the calm that had taken over the place and the quiet was so soothing. Soon she too fell subject to the aches in her body and the fatigue that had been building and drifted off to sleep.

Meg didn't wake till many hours later, when she did she found that she had been wrapped in a soft rose coloured blanket. One much different than the one her mother had placed on the Phantom. On her lap a small black cat had curled up and her feet rested daintily on a soft ottoman that matched the furniture in the room. She turned suddenly an startled the cat on her lap. It settled back down and closed its eyes again as Meg placed a soft hand on its head and ran her fingers through its silky fir. She stared blankly at the sofa that was now empty. The blanket was gone and so was the man but the mask remained on the side table. She rested her head back against the chair again, feeling stiff and still quite sleepy. She faded back into a light sleep.

She woke again when she heard footsteps come into the room. She pulled her feet down from the ottoman and placed the cat on the floor. It rushed to the footsteps and came back as a man entered the room.

"I trust you rested well," he asked her.

"As well as can be expected," she answered politely.

"Tea?" he asked his back still to her from the back of the room.

"That would be lovely," she said as she started to get up.

"Please stay where you are," he said as he turned and came toward her.

"Thank you," she smiled looking up at his disfigured face, "I am happy to see you have recovered sir."

"Please call me Erik," he said and sat down on the sofa across from her, "it should be me thanking you," he said as he sipped his tea and the cat jumped up and settled itself beside him.

"You gave us quite a fright last night," Meg blushed as she looked down at her tea.

"It was very kind of you and your mother," he said as he looked toward the mask on the table. He reached for it and put it to his face.

"Please leave it off," Meg said as she rushed to stop him. She knelt at his side and looked up at him with a smile, "you needn't wear it around me.

Erik placed the mask back on the table and smiled cautiously at the young woman, "please sit with me and chat with me a while before you return to the world above." he said as he took her hand and helped her off the floor. She sat next to him on the sofa as he pulled the rose blanket off the floor and wrapped it back around her shoulders.

"Tell me," he said as he picked up his tea cup again, "about the things that have happened to put the theatre in such trouble that you women have been sent to find me."

"I don't know much about it," Meg said with a little shrug, "I'm left out of most of the business. My job is to dance and please the patrons and that is all," she said with a sigh, "perhaps its me, who is the problem and my dancing isn't as pleasing as the managers would like."

"I doubt very much it is you," Erik laughed a little, "you dance divinely, it's the other I would be worried about."

"The others?" Meg asked.

"Yes," he said, "the younger girls, the ones who only want to be ballerinas because all they want to do is please the male patrons an attempt to become the mistresses of the wealthy," he said a little sarcastically, "they know nothing about the art or the appreciation one needs for the art."

"Well, I do not want to speak unjustly of anyone but I suppose you are right," she said shyly, "perhaps no one in Paris care for the art anymore."

"You may be right," Erik sighed, "I don't think that even Andre or Firmin care for it anymore."

"If that is the case, sir, why have you agreed to help them?" Meg asked, "if all they want to do is exploit your work."

"Well, I suppose its because the theatre means more to me than I can say," He said as he sat back and looked at the young woman across from him, "it is true that if the theatre was to be destroyed I would most certainly be found and I can't let that happen and I don't really feel willing to give up my home to an artless world so I have agreed to help save the theatre. My managers want their money, its true they have no other interests but that, but I want to see the arts continue."

"I understand," Meg said with a smile, "I don't know what I would do without the theatre so I am very grateful that you have agreed to help save it."

"Surely you have many prospects outside of the theatre should something happen," Erik laughed, "a beautiful young woman like you should be able to carry on in almost anything. Men of status must be fighting for you."

Meg blushed and lowered her eyes to the floor at the comment.

"I have offended you," Erik said apologetically.

"No," Meg said as she returned her gaze to Erik, "I've turned away every suitor that has ever come calling. None of the things they promise me seem in any way comparable to what I have here," she said, "I am happy with my life and I love to dance for the art of the dance not for the money or the fame. If I couldn't dance then, I guess, I would sooner die."

"Then that settles it," Erik said as he stood and took Meg's hand, "to hell with the money, or the fame or whatever it takes to save the theatre. I am apart of this for the art of it and to save the theatre for the dance and for the song. For you Meg Giry, I will save the theatre with another masterpiece by the Phantom of the Opera."


	9. The Living Drama

_**Chapter 9:The Living Drama.**_

Movements were quick and random as Meg was hastily ushered out of the Phantom's underground world. He took her back to the world above through, yet another, unexplored passage. He had fixed the rose blanket back around her shoulders tightly and persuaded her to follow him deeper into his home. From the halls of the incredibly spacious home she was led away and soon the richness of the home faded to the dusty darkness of the hidden tunnels of the theatre. All of the paths that he led her down were well travelled but poorly lit, he carried with him an oil lamp and moved quickly ahead of her. Her feet echoed off the hard floor and solid stones walls. The passages always seemed to twist an turn in all kinds of different directions, and although they came to very few stair cases, they did travel upward. Meg was feeling dizzy and lost within the bowels of the theatre, not really knowing in which direction they were travelling or where they would end up. Any other person would have begun to feel the fatigue in their legs as they climbed up through the darkness but not this young woman. Her ballet training made this feel like nothing at all and she kept up with the Phantom as he went. He seemed do mysterious as he went on through the darkness. Strong, well dressed and almost handsome. It was an incredibly strange feeling to have about a man who brought so much fear to so many people but Meg felt captivated by his presence.

Erik never turned to look at her as he walked on. He could hear her behind him but she remained silent as well. He knew that she would keep up and didn't worry about her falling behind. The fear that ran through normal people about dark places would not allow her to fall to far from the light of the lamp. Up they climbed, through unseen levels of the theatre until they arrived and emerged into Box Five. The theatre around them was dark and silent. The stage was visible and empty. The sets were gone and the lights had all been turned out. Even the light from the lamp didn't fill the space but only cast a faint glow over the edge of the box. It was here that they finally stopped and even though Meg had followed his every move, she was lost at how they came to stand in Box Five. Had she come back to this space she would have never been able to find the entrance or exit that the Phantom used to gain access to the box. Not in the light or the darkness.

In the lush, red velvet, seat of the box a small white envelope lay. There were no markings on it but it was clear that it has been filled with something. It lay thick and bright against the red of the seat. Erik moved quickly around the box, remaining out of the sigh of the theatre below, and reach out and took it. His movements seemed familiar only to him and though the room was completely empty his habits prevailed no one would ever see him come and go, not even the darkness itself As quickly as he had moved he stuffed the envelope into an inner pocket of his clothing. He then turned his attention back to Meg, "you mustn't come looking for me until the opera is delivered. I don't have time to deal with you or your mother until I am finished. Do you understand?" he asked looking strong and frightening again. Meg hadn't noticed him do it but the white mask was back on his face and his eyes were harsh, burning her from within as he looked at her.

"I do," Meg said as she stepped way from him.

"You need not be afraid of me," he said as his gaze softened, but only slightly, "but you must obey," he added and disappeared again.

Meg gasped for breath as she fell into the chair of the box. Her heart pounded and she felt as though the air had been cut off to her. Fear had taken hold of her entire body as the darkness around her became absolute. She knew not to be afraid of him, he was only a man after all and yet it was so hard not to be. His countenance had changed so drastically and almost dangerously from the previous night that she began to doubt that any of it had happened at all. She was also very confused at the amount of time that she had been with him. Had it been only a night or has it been much longer? She just didn't know. Another fear and the memories of another time filled her mind. Had all of this happened before, to Christine. Was something wrong happening all around her? Was the man really as magic as people believe him to be? She was beginning to believe it herself. It was the most frightening thing of all, that a man like that could take hold of the one thing that is yours and yours alone, yourself, your freedom of choice and mix it with whatever fantastic images or fears he could muster. Meg was dizzy and unsure of everything at that moment. Quickly she stood and fled the box she had been left in. Up she climbed in the theatre, running as fast as she could. The theatre suddenly felt like it was staring at her, judging her. Her heart beet faster, she could feel it in her chest. Her limbs felt heavy, like something was pulling her back. The blanket that had been wrapped around her even felt cold and frightening but she couldn't let go of it. She pushed herself onward, as fast as she could run, always up toward the top. Finally she reached the roof and flung herself out onto it. Darkness had once again covered the land above. She sank to her knees, covered her face with her hands and sobbed, "why must the darkness plaque me," she cried.

The cold night air rushed in around her. She shivered more violently now, feeling the chill right down to her soul. The brilliant stars stared at her from higher above then she could reach, like hundreds of thousands of eyes judging her every move. The moon was bright, and big, and menacing in its audience of stars.

The rain clouds had moved on and the roof of the theatre was dry from a brilliant day of sun and warm weather. Meg had missed it while she slept in the house of the Phantom of the Opera. Less time than she had been imagining had passed but her mind was playing trick on her.

She sat on the roof, the blanket wrapped around her shoulders and sobbed until she had reached the point where no more tears could drench her face. She sat silently, then, and found her composure. Everything that had happened, must have happened, she still had the blanket to prove it. However frightening it had been, she realised that it was now over. The stars in the sky and the moon in its orbit began to soften with every moment Meg spent staring up at them. Everything began to feel, somewhat, dreamlike. She stood slowly, feeling the stiffness and the aches of her body and turned back toward the door. Stepping through the door she returned to her world, the world of the theatre and the safe place that she had always known.

Sleep didn't come to Meg that night. Instead she found that she only wanted to dance. The ballerina's practice hall had lost its dancers hours ago and Meg was pleased to see it empty. This room was normally loud and colourful, dizzying even, but now it was quiet and flooded with the silver light of the moon, through the large windows. Her emotions lead her in her dancing that night. A silent music, only Meg had ever heard, lead her on from the safety of her own imagination. It was a dark music, a morose sounding music and she danced on until her feet ached and her toes bleed inside her dancing shoes. She didn't feel the pain as much as she began to feel herself fading away into sleep. She stopped and silently wondered off to bed.

Mornings had come and gone, dances were danced and the young ballerina's kept up to their usual flirtations routines. Mornings turned to afternoons and afternoons to nights and everything happened like clock work. As normal as anything and as routine as ever anything had been. Andre and Firmin had even returned to their routines and had nearly forgotten the strange events that had once taken hold of their entire beings. The time moved slowly onward within the theatre.

Madame Giry had not asked any questions after her daughter had returned and simply went on with her duties of mothering and teaching the dancers of the company. Meg hadn't tried to speak with her mother about anything that had passed between her and the Phantom, because the truth of the whole situation was, she wasn't sure of what had happened any more. She knew that something had happened but couldn't say what was real or what her mind had made up in its state of fear. Her mind had begun to play tricks on her during the day and her dreams at night seemed so real, as if she were really living then, that even when she thought she was awake she wasn't completely sure that she was.

In truth, Meg was afraid of what she had been feeling and simply spent her days in the practice hall, oblivious to anything that happened around her. She had once taken on a senior roll in the troop, helping her mother along with the younger girls and teaching in her mother absence. Only now she danced alone and in silence. Never really aware of when the younger ballerina's had stopped to stare at the enchanting dance that only Meg seemed to know.

It was true that something had been affecting Meg, but didn't affect anyone else and it terrified her. She watched as everyone continued on in their routines as the days passed, and yet she wasn't herself. She felt like she was alone in an ocean of emotions that no one could understand, and though she was afraid to tell anyone about anything, her body spoke volumes about her condition. Her movements were light, dreamy and precise, almost as if she was always in the dance. When she walked through the halls, or if she was actually in practice, her body moved as if it were always carried by some music. Her eyes, on the other hand, were sad and blank. The colour had faded from them to almost a grey and her skin had begun to match. Pail as marble and cold to the touch she was always chilled through to her core. When she wasn't dancing she remained wrapped in a rose blanket that no one recognised.

The young ballerina's didn't take offence to Meg's mood or even to being ignored by her, in fact they welcomed the lack of supervision. They continued with their frolicking and flirting and didn't pay much attention to the condition that Meg seemed to fall further and further into.

Her mother on the other hand had noticed from the moment she layed eyes on Meg when she returned. She was concerned for her well being and yet something within her told her not to pry. It certainly seemed like something out of her control and so she could only sit back and watch as her daughter fell more and more into her lament.

One evening, as the theatre fell quiet and the ballerinas were given leave to roam the city, Meg found herself once again drawn to the practice hall. The immense room was a lovely kind of quiet and a brilliant full moon lit the space, casting wide beams of soft silver light across the wooden floor. The farther into the room she moved the louder and the stronger the urge and the silent music of her mind pulled her to dance. She dropped the blanket on a window sil and placed her practice slippers on her feet. In the moonlight and quiet she found peace and happiness as she danced. She was graceful in her actions and emotion poured from her movements. She lost herself in the space and the moon light, as if she had been taken into a trance, one she would never dream of fighting.

Suddenly a shadow passed through the moon beams in the room and she lost her footing. She fell hard to one side landing on the palms of her hands and twisting one of her feet uncomfortably to break her fall.

"Meg, are you hurt?" she heard a voice in the darkness asked and felt an arm around her.

"I don't think so," she said softly and leaned on the Phantom to gain her balance again, "I should be fine," she added as she let go of his arm and put more pressure on the foot she had twisted.

"I apologise if I startled you," he said as he watched her limp a little.

"I'm sure anything would have startled me," she said with a small giggled, "I've been such a fright to everyone myself I believe."

The Phantom remained silent as he watched her. She walked for a moment around the practice hall, before she decided to sit and stop for the evening.

"What brings you out?" she asked as she looked at him in the moonlight, standing tall and strong but gentle, "have you finished your work so soon?"

"I have," he said as he picked up the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"That is wonderful news," she said a bit dreamily.

"Are my managers still in the building?" he asked.

"They haven't been leaving, so I assume that they are still in their office," she said as she pulled off her practice shoes and unwrapped the tape that held her toes. They were blood soaked as she removed them but she didn't seem bothered by this.

"You've been working yourself to hard little one," Erik said as he shuddered at the sight of the blood that came off her dainty little feet.

"There can not be perfection without a little pain," she said and wrapped clean bands of linen around her feet before replacing her shoes, "shall I take you up to see Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre?" she asked as she held the blanket tightly around her and carried her ballet slippered in her other hand.

"Thank you, but I prefer to see them alone," Erik said with a sort of bow towards her, "I wish you a good evening and a peaceful rest."

"And I you," she smiled timidly and turned. She limped as she walked across the practice hall and disappeared through a door that led to the ballet dormitories.


	10. The Phantom's Masterwork

_**Chapter 10: The Phantom's Masterwork.**_

Erik watched the young woman limp from the room and disappear into the darkness. She had changed much in the time since Christine. Her dancing was far more advanced than any of the other senior ballerinas, perhaps it was because of her mother, but Erik doubted this. He believed that Meg had held something else, that many of the other ballerinas had not yet found, and this was a love and devotion to the art and not vanity. It was true that Meg was a beautiful girl, likely the target of much affection from the young men patrons, and yet she didn't seem to take much interest in this. Her duty was to the theatre and to the dance, to make the dance the most that it could be. At one time she had envied Christine for her vocal abilities but since seeing the young diva leave the stage she had begun to be the envy of the ballerinas. It was true, however, that she did work harder than most at her craft, and even more so since she had met the Phantom. Erik knew he had placed a fear of perfection into the girl but now, after watching her and seeing what was happening, believed that he had been making her work to hard. It would be time to back away from his tutelage of the young ballerina, she had reached the place he wanted to see her at. She would lead he new work.

He spun suddenly on his heals and headed off into the darkness of another hallway. The opera house had fallen silent like a tomb. He made his way through the silence, quickly, but with a purpose. He had travelled this passages, maneuvering the halls, many time in complete secret and had never stopped, though some may believe him to have disappeared. He had made his rounds on a less frequent schedule than before but he was beginning to come back into it. He realised long ago that this was his home and his world. He had been well travelled at one point in his life but it had led to more heartaches than he dared to remember. This theatre was a refuge and a secluded quiet place, where in the darkest hours of the night he was free to do as he will. It was here that he could come to the world above and be happy to set his sights on the beauties of the world. He could see the world, from his theatre, perch for the innocence that she possessed and was happy at these times to be apart of it. The theatre in itself was his muse. The ballerinas now the spark that lit the fame of imagination. The silence of ballet slippers had replaced the vivacious sound of the voices of choruses and soloist and yet he believe that they could co-exist, quite nicely, without being separated into their categories of musical forms.

The lights had all be extinguished in the theatre and the workers and artist had all retired to their respected quarters and homes within the theatres limits. The only light that did manage to penetrate the darkness was that of the silver white moon. It shaun in through the windows and reflected off the rich golds and marble of the grand theatre, that never seemed to change. It was the architecture of the building and the familiar old stateliness that keep it familiar. It was like an old friend that would lived out its life with you and though you knew it changed you could never see them happening.

He stopped suddenly outside the office of the managers. The hall was quiet, but a dim light came out from under the door of the office. Erik placed his ear against the door and listened for a moment. There was no sound on the other side of the door. They were silent with each other, they didn't walk around the office and yet it was clear that they were behind the locked door. Erik remained silent for a moment pondering the best way to attract the attention of the manages. Should he slip the manuscript beneath the door and just leave it to them to continue as planned. Should he threaten them like he had done before. Taking a deep break and bracing himself, he made his decision and raised his fist and pounded it hard on the door.

"That the devil is going on?" Andre cried.

"Who the devil is disturbing us," Firmin yelled at the door.

"The devil himself," Erik said.

"Oh good heavens, Firmin, did you hear that?" Erik could hear Andre ask.

"We've gone mad," Firmin said as he walked to the door and unlocked it, "I suppose its best to get things over with," he said and opened the door, "oh its you," he said as he stepped aside to let the Phantom look into the office.

Andre panicked at the sigh of the Phantom. Some papers were frantically shuffled into the desk before he forced himself to look back at the man in the mask, "that beast isn't with you, it is?" he asked.

Erik pushed the door aside and walked into the room, "no, she is not, but I can fetch her should you care to see her," he said.

"No, no, for the love of God, no," Andre cried as he jumped up onto the desk.

Erik rolled his eyes and sat himself down in one of the chairs, that occupied the office.

He always looked so proper and professional when he did show himself. Not much of a ghost at all but a man of great standing, of money and knowledge. It was this sense of status and pride that made him so intimidating. His eyes were harsh and cold behind his mask and yet they were filled with knowledge and an understanding for the musical craft that if was no wonder his musical ear was so finely tuned. His eyes burned with passion for his work and for the performance. He stared at the managers and Andre and Firmin stared nervously back. The silence that had fallen between the three men was deafening and only built the mystery of the Phantom of the Opera.

"So what brings you out?" Firmin finally asked not wanting to feel the burning of the Phantom's eyes any longer.

"For the very reason that you called on me," Erik said.

Firmin and Andre exchanged quizzical glances and then looked back at the Phantom, who sat calmly in his chair, the expression on his face was one of contentment for the managers confusion.

"We haven't called on you," Firmin said

"You told us not to, Monsieur," Andre said noticing the Phantom's impatience starting to show.

"I could have started with the notes all over again," Erik said as he shifted in his seat.

"Oh God not those again," Firmin mumbled.

"I'll be sure to write and announce my coming next time," Erik said forcefully at Firmin, "but it was you that sent for me in the first place." he sighed and angrily pulled a manuscript out from under his cape and tossed it onto the desk.

Andre and Firmin stared down at the red cover of the manuscript, fearful to touch it but awed by the immense presence that the work seemed to have.

"You're finished so soon," Andre asked still staring at the booklet in front of him.

"Its been a work in progress," Erik said.

"_La Dance du Diable_?" Firmin asked feeling a bit unnerved, "we asked for an opera not a ballet!" he said pushing himself away from the desk.

"I agreed to no such request," Erik said his eyes burning with anger for the man disobedience, "you asked for a work to save your financial arrangements at this opera house and I have delivered," he hissed at Firmin, "this, my managers, is not a ballet nor an opera in the traditional respects. It is a Masterpiece," he added and watched as Andre's interest grew.

"A new form of musical drama," Andre said excitedly as he slowly drew back the red cover to view the manuscript below.

The musical writing was beautiful and precise on the page. The chords and lyrics melted together seamlessly. The orchestration was clear and exciting, filled with dynamics and chromaticism. The Phantom's penmanship was like none of the other great composers. It was a seamlessly beautiful manuscript, clearly a final draft of a many month process.

"Its beautiful," Andre sighed as he continued to look through the pages of black and white.

"I can't believe you are falling for this foolery, Andre," Firmin said as he walked to the window.

"This was all your idea, Firmin," Andre yelled, "how dare you speak this way, with the composer in the room. If you think you could make anything as beautiful as this then you should have done it yourself and never went in search of the Phantom and now just because you are judging this book by its cover, as something that you didn't want, you are willing to anger and put you own well being in jeopardy. I'll have nothing to do with your arrogance, you wanted this and now we'll see it finished," Andre became angrier and angrier as he spoke, "it is clear Firmin that you are stuck in the past, and this business need the future to survive."

"Perhaps, Monsieur Andre, we should leave Monsieur Firmin to decide what is best for the Opera Populair and you and I will usher in the new revolution of musical performance. We could take the musical community of Paris by storm. It is time for you Andre, to leave the old and move on to the new age. This masterpiece is the future!" Erik said as he placed a hand on his manuscript and looked excitedly at Andre. He realised then that Andre wasn't what he had once thought of him. He seemed to have a love and excitement for music that spanned farther than the money aspects of the business. It was, when it all boiled down to it, a love of the art.

"You wouldn't dare," Firmin yelled.

"Wouldn't I Monsieur?" Erik growled as he drew himself up before Firmin to his tallest and towered over the now trembling man, "you know what I am capable of."

Firmin fell back into his seat gasping for air at the shear fear of the Phantom of the Opera.

"You deserved that," Andre said to Firmin, his eyes never leaving the manuscript, "this really is quite impressive," he added excitedly, "doomed lovers, a seductress who moves through dance, the blistering fire of passion and agony of defeat, truly I am captivated by your story telling. Please, Monsieur le Phantom, explain to me your vision for this masterwork."

"Oh yes please do," Firmin said, his voice filled with contempt as he sat back in his chair and pouted.

"It's really quite simple and yet so very extravagant, that I guarantee it to pull in even the biggest dullard you could find in Paris. He'll be captivated with the magic of the music and the dance and the song," Erik said excited and filled with passion for his music. He grabbed hold of the manuscript and flung the pages forward, "If he is not moved by the vocal arias of love and pain, then the huge choruses of domination and terror will sear his heart. The dazzling innocence of the ballet troop will enchant and invigorate the audience. But should our dullard not be captivated by now, it is our devils dance that will seal his fate. He'll weep to view the sorrow and the loss of the devil, in her beautiful, yet tragic dance, the Devils Lament," he said and pointed to the place in the manuscript where a fully orchestrated passage lay waiting to be played. It was rich with chordal material, moving rhythmic passages and high energy dissonances. The score at this point showed very little in the way of direction in the dance sequence but it was clear by the notes on the page that the dancer would find no trouble in knowing exactly what the Phantom wanted to see in the dance passage. In Erik's mind he had already viewed the Devil's Lament and was ready to see it played out on the stage.

"Magnificent!" Andre cried as the Phantom's excitement was passed onto him, "brilliant!"

"Let me see it," Firmin said, also captivated by the Phantom's description, as he ran around the desk and looked over Andre's shoulder, "we've never had an ensemble that large before," he gasped as he looked down at the extent of the instrumental orchestration needed for the passage, "do we even have room for this?"

"Make room," the Phantom said, "you asked for a ground breaking work, to through the Opera Populair back into the spotlight of Paris, well here it is. This is what I have written," he said proudly and moved back to his seat to watch what was to unfold next. He had lit the flames of excitement and doubt, this was exactly what was needed to fuel the fire.

"Its going to take months to establish a cast and an ensemble and even the crew to put on a work of this magnitude. The auditions will be hell and rehearsals will be very time consuming but I believe that it can be done and be done in true Parisian style. This story and this music is just to terribly brilliant to give up. We have to see it through to the end!" Andre said fulled of excitement and optimism.

"Now Andre, listen to reason please, this is crazy," Firmin said.

"That is the reason it is perfect," Andre said forcefully, "don't you see if we can pull it off, we'll be known far and wide for the best vocalist, the best choruses and the best ballerinas to ever grace the stage," he added then narrowed his stare at Firmin again, "besides, this craziness was all your idea in the beginning. Now that you have made this bed sleep in it. This is the extravaganza that we need, open your eyes and see it for what it is! The bigger the better. The public will never be able to resist the grandeur of it when the news gets out."

"It'll ruin us if it doesn't do all that it promises to do," Firmin yelled.

"We're ruined now," Andre yelled back as he through one of the account books across the table, "don't deny it you know, as well as I do, what is in that book. No matter what we do its all there in the red. We have nothing more to loose but everything to gain don't you understand that! This over the top production is our last ditch effort."

"It will never work," Firmin said as he fell back into his chair again, "we have to find the best singers, the best ballerinas, the best musicians, all this with the looming of the Phantom's actions. People don't forget."

"No but they do get bored," Andre said, "a little danger is worth all the excitement in the world."

Erik grinned at the comment, then stood from his chair, "the best you will find, because I will allow nothing but the best to pass through the auditions. The people you will bring in by using my name and finally the money you will have with a brilliant rising star in the lead ballet roll," he said and strolled around the room, "it will work, because it will not be a second rate performance. If, after everyone has been chosen and they can't cut what we ask of them, then they are out and we'll re cast, do you understand?" he said and glared at Firmin, "take as long as you need to organise the auditions. Say what you need to say to gain publicity," he said as he glanced over at Andre.

"What name shall I associate with the work?" he asked looking back at the manuscript.

"The name that everyone will recognise," Erik said, "The Phantom, is name enough for the public."

"I'll have posters drafted right away and if I have to visit every music school, every dance studio and every orchestra hall in Europe, myself, I will put out the word about the auditions," Andre said as he picked up the manuscript then turned to Firmin, "you can help me or you can sit and pout, but be warned, should this masterpiece take off and do better than we could ever imagine I'll not give you any more credit than, that it was you who dreamed of another work set by the Phantom," he said and gently place the manuscript into the theatre safe.

"Don't be silly," Firmin sighed, "of course I'm going to help with it. I have little to no choice now."

"This is wonderful news," Erik said with a smile and moved toward the door, "but be warned, if things do not go as I have planned them, I will shut it down. However, if everything falls into place and the work goes ahead without any troubles and becomes my greatest achievement, you'll never have to worry again," he added and passed through the doorway, disappearing into the darkness.

"This is so exciting, think of the possibilities," Andre said as he reached for his hat and his coat, "we have a composer in residence, the show is bound to be brilliant so long as he gives the order."

"This is suicide I am telling you," Firmin sighed and reached for his hat and coat.

"It is our biggest business venture yet," Andre smiled, "this is cause to celebrate."

"It's cause to drink myself into non existence," Firmin grumbled.

"Not until its over my good man, not until its over!"

The two men left the office for the first time in weeks and went on their own ways until they would have to return. It was yet another new beginning for the Opera Populair.


	11. The Story Teller's Magic

_**Chapter 11: The Story Tellers Magic.**_

Morning came on quickly. It was a bright sunny morning. The sun poured in through the windows of the theatre, breathing life into it. And with the dawn came the announcement, of excitement, from the managers. Word spread quickly from Monsieur Reyer and Madame Giry down the ranks of the musicians and ballerinas until everyone in the building knew that something was about to happen. No clear details had been given but something had come to them. Speculations began to fly about what the news could be but no one could say for sure.

"What is it about," one ballerina asked Madame Giry as they gathered in the practice hall.

"That is for later child now practice," Madame Giry answered and watched as Meg dreamily walked into the practice hall, "have you heard the new?" she asked her daughter.

"What news?" Meg asked as she changed into her ballet slippers and began to stretch.

"About _La Dance du Diable_," Madame Giry whispered excitedly into her daughters ears, "but be hushed darling, the other do not know of the title of the work yet. But I have been told the Phantom has plans for a ballerina to be lead in his new work."

"If that is what he has chosen then that is for him to decide," Meg said calmly as she bent low to the ground in a stretch.

Madame Giry grew quiet at her daughters lack of interest in the production and carried on with the routine rehearsal.

Andre and Firmin walked quickly into the ballet practice hall and crossed, followed by a group of unknown gentlemen, to Madame Giry. The interruption, of the managers and the strange men, was complete and stopped the ballet practice. With the end of the practice a new noise erupted in the practice hall, that of chattering young ballerinas.

"Ladies," Andre called trying to hush the group of gossiping women.

An uneasy silence fell over the room. The ballerina's gathered in groups, clearly divided from the others in the room. Meg walked slowly to her mothers side and stood quietly as Andre and Firmin waited to start their speech.

"As many of you may know," Firmin started forcing the excitement in his voice, "we have been delivered a new work for this institution to perform."

"_La Dance Du Diable_!" Andre announced far more enthusiastically than Firmin.

"It is a work of both operatic singing and grand ballet," Firmin continued, "it is going to take a great deal of work from all of you and many more dancers, musicians and especially singers are needed. It is going to cost the Opera Populair enormous amounts of money and therefore we cannot risk it not being a spectacular event."

"But it is to be one of the biggest works we have every dared to perform here," Andre said with a grand movement of his arms, "it is by a new and innovative composer, who is doing new and wonderful things to the art. This could possibly be the beginning of something amazing. A completely new form of musical drama."

A large "oo" rose from the group of ballerinas. Andre was winning the batter of encouragement and excitement over Firmin. The energy in the room seemed to rise and fall as the news was passed between the two managers. The excitement continued to grow and spread. It had happened slowly as they went on in their speech but all eyes had grown wide and the ballerinas now gathered closer and closer to the managers as they spoke.

"But what is this musical drama about Monsieur?" one of the older ballerinas asked as Andre stopped to catch his breath.

"Oh my dear it's a simply enchanting story," Andre said, Firmin rolled his eyes, "gather round, gather round and I will tell you this tale of magic and tragedy," he said as he emphasised his words to capture as much of their attention as he could.

The ballerinas sat, poised on the ground, and waited for the story to begin.

"La Angelle, the leading soprano, is a plain, undesirable, young peasant woman. She had fallen in love with Adair, the noble tenor. Adair is a handsome young man in search of love and adventure. He passes Angelle in the market one morning and doesn't even spare a glance for her. Angelle is crushed and left to weep in the busy marketplace. In her sorrow, she vows to find a way to make him see her through the crowd, but she had the beauty of the noble women, played by our wonderful ballet troop, that stand between her and Adair. The marketplace is filled with a sorrowful song that Angelle sings to her lost love as the ballerinas and chorus sing and dance in a joyful teasing way," Andre said, over exaggerating the sorrows and the happiness as the ballerinas reacted to his every word.

Gasps of wonder filled the practice hall. The ballerinas had become very interest by now. They all hung off of his words, giggling to each other, as images of the spectacle filled their heads.

"Filled with sorrow," Andre continued, "Angelle fled into the forest by the light of the moon where she comes across a clearing. The forest floor glows red hot and there in the middle of the clearing is a beautiful woman, who dances on bare feet to a music that she seems only to hear. The woman is La Diable, played by one of you," Andre said as hope filled all of there eyes, "with only dance, La Diable asks Angelle what her heart desires and in a wonderful Aria, to which La Diable dances to, Angelle trades her soul to be beautiful," Andre said as he mimed handing something to a ballerina that sat at his feet.

The ballerinas chattered with delight.

"The next day while in the market, Adair rides through again. Angelle's newfound beauty catches his eye and they sing a wonderful duet of a wonderful day spent together and their hearts being lost to each other," Andre said as he stooped down and place one hand on a ballerina's shoulder and the other on his heart.

"Awe," The ballerinas sighed.

"Sadly," he said harshly, "La Diable has been watching all along with a band of her minions from the underworld, also played by our ballerinas and led by six female singers, three sopranos and three altos. They follow, unseen as Angelle and Adair fall more and more in love with each other and La Diable grows jealous of the beautiful Angelle, for she wants Adair for herself."

"No," a ballerina gasped.

"It can't be so," another cried.

"Oh yes, but it is!" Andre hissed, "La Diable casts a spell on Adair and pulls him from Angelle's arms. She cries out in a fearful Aria as La Diable dances Adair right into hell. Angelle follows, her heart broken, right into the fire of the clearing in the woods. She is met by the shouts and the cries of the underworld, in one of the biggest chorus passages we have ever seen and is made dizzy by the dances of La Diable's followers. And this is the end of the first Act." Andre smiled.

The ballerinas stared at him as he remained silent, wiping his brow with a handkerchief.

"Oh Monsieur go on!" someone cried.

"Ah but it is time for a short intermission child," Andre laughed, "do you not want to get up and stretch?"

"No, no," came shouts from the ballerinas.

"Very well," Andre smiled and shoved his handkerchief into his pocked, "our seen begins again with a waltz between La Diable and Adair, accompanied by a melodious song from the chorus but the misleading sneers and cackles of La Diable's followers. Adair realises that something is wrong but his mind is incredibly clouded. He sings an aria of lost passion, lost hope and a pair of lost eyes that he can still see deep within him. La Diable is furious that she is losing her grip on the handsome young man. Her dance becomes more vigorous and more sexual," Andre said and grabbed a ballerina by the wrist pulling her up close to him, "she then takes hold of Adair and tries to convince him, with her dance, that he is in love with her. As the dance of six other ballerinas continue to build the spell that grows around him led on by the chanting of the six female singers. But he resist!" Andre yelled pushing the ballerina away from him, "he turns on La Diable, she is not the one he loves, he cries out in song. A men's chorus, from off stage, sing him on and then is joined by the women's voices, also off stage, and he remembers Angelle and her beauty."

"How romantic," the ballerina beside him said as she sat down again.

"Oh yes," Firmin added with a hint of sarcasm.

"Ah but alas," Andre started again, his face twisted into a sorrowful look, "Angelle had lost her beauty when she entered into hell and the followers of La Diable attached her. And yet she is determined to save Adair, or to at least see him again and plead with to him see her for the woman she is. She continues on in her journey, the strength she needs coming to her in the form of a beautiful chorus of angel songs and the dance of seven ballerinas dressed in white. Angelle joins the chorus in a great aria as the angels lead her on until she comes to where La Diable is keeping Adair."

"Oh it is to end happy," one ballerina cried.

"Oh but it doesn't," Andre said as he pointed to the ballerina, "there, on the floor, Adair lies. La Diable is outraged, she is out of breath and leans against a terrible fiery thrown. Her costume has even changed and looks angrier and more frightening. Angelle cries out to Adair in fear. She throws herself on him and weeps. Her tears mix with the angels song as the seven angels and La Diable's six daemons dance around them. The angels win the battle and life is breathed back into Adair. As he rises Angelle see his face," Andre paused.

The ballerinas held onto each other in fear and excitement. Each and every one of them held their breath.

"Don't stop Monsieur," they all cried.

"But it may be to much for you," Andre said with a sigh.

"No, no, go on!" the called out.

"He's hideous!" Andre hissed as he lunged at the Ballerinas.

They cried out in horror and fell back away from him.

"His face is not the face of a handsome man anymore, but terribly ugly and deformed," Andre said, then added in a gentler tone, "Angelle weeps, but takes his face in her hands and caresses it. Adair joins in her song of sorrow and love. He takes her, the woman that looks as poorly as he, into his arms and vows to love her for ever. The angels return in a sorrowful song and pulls them both from hell, leaving La Diable alone. She stands in the middle of the stage her hands outstretched in the direction that Adair and Angelle left. She is tortured and sorrowful herself and here she dances her last, the devil's lament. She falls to the floor at the end of her dance and is engulfed in the flames of hell."

A great silence fell over the ballerinas. Some wept, others clung to the younger ones. It was a tragic story and yet brilliant in its design.

"Who could write such a story of sadness and loss," a ballerina asked through her tears as she held onto a smaller girl.

"I don't know if you really could understand if I told you," Andre sighed as a sudden sorrow hit him. The story he had just told was so filled with loss and yet seemed familiar in a way.

"Andre they have a right to know," Firmin hissed feeling impatient, "the whole reason we came here was to tell them this and you've turned it into story time. For the love of God, we have so much work to do and here you are wasting time."

"Fine," Andre said looking angrily at Firmin, "you want me to tell them who the tragic composer of this monumental work is? Fine I will and then I leave it to you to explain because I now see things clearer through the eyes of a genius. This story is not only fiction but oh so real in its being. It could happen to any of us!"

"Oh come now Andre, you're over reacting," Firmin laughed, "it could not!"

"The star crossed lovers of Romeo and Juliet," Andre said turning back to the ballerinas, "the sad truth of Beauty and the Beast. Even our own history here at the Opera Populair shows signs of the tragedies that have happened. And there is always the misunderstood villain as we would call it," Andre sighed for a minute and then looked to the sky, "ladies, the composer of this wonderful work of sorrow and rejection is..." he trailed of for a second, "The Phantom himself."

A gasp rose from the ballerinas as Meg fled from the practice hall.


	12. Into Motion

_**Chapter 12: Into Motion.**_

Meg ran away from the crowd, gathered in the practice hall, and as far away from any people as she could run. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest that she was afraid it was trying to escape her body. She had no idea why the story had moved her so deeply but it all seemed so familiar in a way. She had known it was the Phantom's work, she was one of the few people who had been included in the managers plans and yet when Andre had mentioned the Phantom her body seemed to take over for her mind. Something moved her to this place of memories and fear but it wasn't a fear for herself. It was a deeper, more meaningful fear for someone else. Was it for the Phantom himself that she was afraid. She almost believed herself to be going crazy and yet she couldn't stop herself from moving forward through the theatre. She made her way down into the theatre and stopped, suddenly, when she came to the stone steps that spiralled downward into the abyss. Her feet seemed uncontrolled by her body and they stopped short not able to move anymore. She could not force herself downward or even away from the spot. So it was here that she stopped and wept for everything that she had been holding in side her, the things she was afraid of and everything that seemed sad and unnatural about her small secluded world of the Opera House. Never before had her world be turned so upside down and yet she seemed to be the only one affected by the mystery. Was she the only one who remembered the feelings and the pain she saw in the eyes of her companions as the Phantom's first opera was released. She felt responsible in a way for everything that was happening and, although people believed the things a blessing, Meg had a feeling of dread and regret growing within her. She had once had the feelings of blessing and curiosity when it came to the Phantom, now she felt a deep dwelling pain for him and the things that the managers had planned.

Andre's story telling had the desired effect. Before noon had arrived and the summer sun was high in the sky, everyone in the theatre knew of the Phantom's new opera. Everyone from the ballerinas, to the men working the flies and the women who worked with costuming. The announcing of the show to the ballerinas first was agreed upon early that morning. Andre and Firmin knew that the ballerinas would do anything to gossip and giggle with each other and it would be the fastest way to get the word out, for once the ballerinas know the word spreads like a wild fire. With the spread of the news came, unfortunate, rumours of the Phantom. Alleged sightings of him, terrible warnings and old stories began to surface as the truth became more and more twisted. It was something to be expected but hard for some parties to hear. Madame Giry spent much of her time hushing the stories of the Phantom but when her back was turned they raged on stronger than ever. It was exactly the publicity Firmin had hoped for in the beginning, when contriving his plan. His mood began to lighten as the first patrons began to flock to the theatre with questions about the new drama and the rumours of the return of the Opera Ghost. Perhaps the plan was going to work, excitement was rising and the theatre seemed to be the centre of the universe once again.

The men who had joined Andre and Firmin, in the practice hall, were painters, journalists and dress makers, ready for the inspiration to do their side of the theatrical roll. There jobs would be quite easy with the in depth instructions the Phantom had left in his manuscript. The painters and artist knew exactly how the stage was to look, the details that the gave Phantom were so precise, he even gave stage measurements for props and sets. The dresses were so well described for the ballerinas and other costumes that he had even listed fabrics that would have to be used to gain the desired effect. And seeing all these instructions in the Phantom's own hand was all that was needed for the journalist to write their own fictions to publish to the public. Soon all of Paris would know of the Phantom's return and pieces of the spectacle would start to show itself in and outside of the theatre.

It wasn't long before huge painted announcement were posted on the walls, outside the theatre. Their paint still glistening in the sun light as people from all around the city stopped to read about what was happening next. The posters were very brief, stating only that musicians, singers, and dancers were all welcome to inquire withing for auditions. It also stated in bold writing that the Phantom's new work was a new and innovative masterpiece set to bring musical drama back to the forefront of the popular entertainment scene. In a smaller print, the poster welcomed any donations toward the production and invited the patrons to contact the managers directly. This announcements did its job and soon people were flocking in with requests for audition times as well, Andre and Firmin welcomed some of the most wealthy men and women into their office. It really had become and exciting time for the theatre. With the ever rising cost of the production, Andre and Firmin had not trouble taking money from the patrons and with the return of the theatre and any reason to gather to gossip the public was more than happy to pay.

Some of the local people, people that had been around during the first visitation by the Phantom, were still feeling sceptic about his return and were very verbal about it in the street before the theatre. But the excitement of something big and new and mysterious was much bolder and drowned out the cries of the sceptics. The good seemed to be outweighing the bad and Andre and Firmin were ready to ride the excitement as long as it might last. Money was coming into the theatre already.

Andre and Firmin were pleased to see all of the action in their theatre again. Their busyness seemed to take away the remaining reservations about the Phantom. The ballerinas had done their jobs and had now fallen into a new dedication to their craft. The practice hall was packed with silent practice and graceful movements, for it was clear that every ballerina wanted to be recognised in the prestigious lead roll of _La Diable_. Madame Giry was pleased with the new concentration and dedication to the craft but she knew that it would take much more than a day to please the Phantom. She had seen the manuscript and was aware of the high technical difficulty of all of the dance. He had even gone as far as creating some things that she, herself, had never done or seen done as a ballerina. It would be a new and difficult thing to ready the dancers for such a work and through she didn't agree with some of the freeness of the dance she knew that it would be very dramatic and would take all the skill that her girls could possible muster to pull it off. She worked her girls harder and longer that day and not one of them complained for they knew, by the look on her face, that the matter of the dance for this work was going to be very focal to the plot. It was clear to everyone it was going to be a lot of work.

Meg, however, stayed out of sight for most of the day. She had cried herself into exhaustion on the steps that led down toward the Phantom's home but she couldn't bring herself to go down any further. Finally, when the cold of the stone steps had chilled her to the bone, she left the seclusion of the hidden place and snuck off to her room. It was here that she fell into her bed and slept a deep and dreamless sleep, undisturbed by anyone.

When she finally woke again, she was stiff and hungry, but felt very relieved as if the sleep had lifted a great burden from her. After finding a cup of tea and some toast she found herself back in the practice hall. The sun had begun to set and the theatre around her had grown quiet. Outside its walls, however, the streets were busier than they had been in a long time. Many people were still coming and going just to see the announcement posters. She was happy she had missed most of the day and looked down at the passers. They looked like ants, scurrying about the streets. Her mind told her that the publicity would be good for the theatre and this was what was needed to save it but she had a terrible feeling of dread still. Maybe it was pity for the Phantom. He didn't need the publicity, he was misunderstood enough. Or maybe it was a dread that the drama wouldn't be the success everyone hoped it would be. Sadly the dread lingered on for her for a very long time.

The practice hall grew darker as the sun set, casting long patches of gold, orange and red light on the floor. Meg saw the beautiful colours and was pulled back to the plot of Erik's drama. She slipped the shoes off her feet, and felt the cool hard wood as she passed her bare feet through the fiery colours of the sunset. A music only she heard played in the back of her mind as she danced. She moved softly and silently across the floor. Her movements were like the flickering of fire and yet filled with a heart breaking emotion. It was a simpler dance, one she would never do in the presence of her mother. Her technique was lost from it. She moved more freely than she would ever do in performance and still it was spellbinding. As the last rays of the sunset light fell out of the room Meg felt herself chasing after them toward the windows. Her body was warm from her movement but as the light faded she felt chilled, like a sudden cold had passed over her. She shivered visibly as she watched, through the window, as the last of the sun dipped down behind the buildings. She stopped and leaned against the window ledge. There, behind the glass, the sky changed before her eyes. The darkness grew thicker and yet the eyes of the stars opened to look down on the world. The windows of the surrounding buildings began to burst with light and smoke still billowed from the chimneys. She sighed as she looked out at the world. It was a placed that Meg had never longed for because it held no mystery for her. Everything she had ever dreamed, she was able to live in the land of make believe that was the Opera Populair.

"Why do I welcome the darkness?" she asked out loud, "what spell have you cast?"

"There are no spells here," a voice from within said, "the daylight is what deceives you. Its dawn and dusk that are the most beautiful parts of the day. Those are mother earths works of art."

"And yet so much magic resides in the passing of the daylight to darkness and the darkness to light," Meg said as she slowly turned away from the window and looked into the darkness of the practice hall. There before her was the Phantom, "you've taken to haunting the ballet hall. Soon the young ones will be calling you the ballet ghost," she added with a smile.

"I don't take much interest in the other ballerinas. They are far to disillusioned by the light. Blind by the visions of wealth and prosperity. They see to much when the sun is high and the world is bright because it is at that time that things are waved before their faced and like greedy little children they want to grab and consume every bit of it," the Phantom said as he walked closer to Meg and leaned on the window ledge beside her, "far more evil happens in the broad daylight. Evening had a bad reputation because people need to place the evil somewhere that they cannot see it. That is why ghost haunt and daemons prowl. They need a way to teach their children about the horrors of life by giving them something to fear. They simply don't want to face the reality that it is there in the day light as it is in the darkness."

"How true," Meg sighed, "and so very poetic but Monsieur if you didn't want to seem so horrific and instill fear in the people around you then why do you lurk in the shadows? Why then do you do the magic you do?"

"We'll I suppose after a while one must live up to the expectations of others," he said with a sigh, "I have stopped trying to be what I am not, in the eyes of the public, and therefore I live only as they see me."

"It is a sad life you lead," Meg said, compassion in her voice.

"It was for a while," he smiled, "but I am used to it now, and rather like the quiet of my solitude. One can't always be young and adventurous, I suppose I have settled into my ways and now my horrors are only the stories that the people tell. Yes I have my history but it is all in the past, we must move forward now."

"Well put," Meg said, "you captivate me with your language speech. Someday I hope to see the world as you do."

"You're dancing was much more beautiful than my speech my dear," he answered.

"Oh, Monsieur, you flatter me," Meg said and blushed, "there was no technique to it," she said feeling embarrassed at her lack of professionalism, "had my mother witnessed that I would have surely been whipped and set to rehearsing my five basic positions."

Erik chuckled a little at her comment, "oh but my dear, it was so filled with emotion," he said, "isn't that the entire point? Once the technique is there you can let the emotions lead you. That is truly what it takes to be La prima ballerina or in our case La Diable," he said as he glanced out the window.

"Again you give my far to much credit," meg said feeling more embarrassed, "I am not worthy of such compliments."

"On the contrary young one, your dancing is inspirational," Erik smiled a kind and gentle smile, "dare I say you've been my muse," his voice was hushed.

Meg blushed but in the darkness Erik didn't catch the change in her face, "then you have been haunting the ballet hall," she said playfully.

He let a small laugh slip as he watched her back away from him and bow in an overly exaggerated dancers way.

"And have you come to gain more inspiration?" she asked as she placed herself in a position to perform a pirouette, "shall I dance for you?"

"If you wish to dance, then it is for you to do," he said softly as he sat on the windowsill and looked out at the stars, "I will never do anything to force anyone against their will again. I've learned my lesson."

Meg shivered a little at the comment.

"I admit, I have been deceptive in my days," he said with a sigh, "but I want only to right my wrongs." he said never looking away from the world outside.

A sadness seemed to take over the ballet space. Meg walked back to the windowsill, where her shoes were and slipped them back onto her feet. She suddenly felt less like dancing and more like crying, though she didn't think she could cry anymore that day. The great ballet room suddenly felt so much smaller. She moved slowly closer to the Phantom and sat down beside him on the windowsill, "You long to leave," she said as she looked out the window, "why don't you?" she asked.

"The world isn't a place for me," he said sadly as their eyes met.

"The world is only the place that you make for yourself," she said as she reached up and caressed the side of his face that wasn't covered by his mask.

Erik shuddered, a little, by the soft and fearless touch. Meg pulled back noticing his discomfort.

"I'm sorry," she said softly lowering her eyes.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he said raising her chin with his gloved hand, "you are right, you know, the world is what you made of it, however, you have to place yourself in the other worlds of the rest of humanity and that is where I don't belong. I haven't always lived in this place, but is has been the safest," he said as he looked back at the stars, "where ever your road takes you, young one, you'll find sadness and evil. You have to decide where you feel safest but don't close off the world."

"But why go searching when you are safe and happy where you are?" she asked finally, "I've been offered the world by many men but none of them have offered me the things that make me happy, that the theatre gives me every day," she said, "I'm safe and content here and I have no desire to see the world outside these walls."

"Someday you may," Erik said looking at her again.

"You long for the outside world I can see it in your eyes," she said looking deeply at him again.

"Its more curiosity than longing," he said, "I am curious to see if things have changed but I fear things have changed for the worst. That is what really keeps me here. I am safe in my life, or was until I decided to help the theatre."

"It is going to be dangerous for you isn't it?" Meg asked fear rising in her voice.

"It may be, and it may not. We'll have to wait and see," he said with a sigh.

"I'm overcome with worry," she said as she shivered, "there is far to much riding on you now."

Erik reached out and wrapped the edge of his cape around her shoulders pulling her closer to him, "well, people always need someone or something to blame. I am the fear they chose to use to cover for their own misfortunes."

"What will you do if something goes wrong?" Meg asked, "they search longer and harder for you this time."

"They wont find me," he said, "I have far to many places to hide, you need not worry about that."

"Even if there is no one that believes that you are good, I will speak for you," Meg said boldly, "let them condemn me as well."

"They wont be able to condemn you," Erik said, "they'll be feel to much pity for you."

Meg looked at him quizzically.

"Meg I need you to dance as _La Diable _in the drama," Erik said finally, "I have been trying to ask you all night and now I realise that I cannot ask you, I need you to do it or the drama will fail. I cannot force you as I one may have, but I can plead with you to see why you are so needed for this roll. You, child, have within you the capacity to dance the world into the future. Your freedom of movement portrays so much more than the strict ballet of the past. Please, I beg you,"

"But I've not got the skill for it," she said fearfully.

"You do, and whatever you need to learn I know you can," he said.

"Will you help me?" she asked her eyes pleading like the twinkling stars.

"I will, but I'll not come to you," he said.

"I know how to find you," she smiled.

"Then it is settled," he said, "please come to me tomorrow night and we'll begin. We haven't much time."

"I will," she said and watched as he stood and disappeared into the darkness.


	13. Notes

_**Chapter 13: Notes.**_

The next morning, Andre and Firmin arrived at the opera house to find people lined up down the street. The doors of the theatre were crowded by the growing mob of people and it seemed continue to grow. The windows that looked out from the ballet hall were filled with the awed faced of the ballerinas who watched the crowd down in the square. Uniformed guards had placed themselves at the doors and kept them locked as if a performance was to be starting. It had been a long time since the Opera Populair had seen this kind of publicity before. Andre and Firmin were greatly pleased to see it.

Madame Giry paced behind the large main doors of the theatre, behind them the crowd gathered in the street. In her hands she held a series of notes, all with different names one them. Meg sat sleepily on the stairs behind her mother. She had come into her room early in the morning, clutching the notes close to her heart and told her that she must be present to greet the managers. Monsieur Reyer had also joined them as well as Monsieur Faireaux, the head fly man of three years, Monsieur and Madame Vertlin the head costume designers, and Monsieur Gravert the stage manager and set designer, who had pulled his son Jaque along because Jaque was the head stable boy below Monsieur Laflame, who had been drinking the previous night and was in no condition to meet the managers this morning. Madame Giry had rolled her eyes at the news of Monsieur Laflame but wasn't surprised by his actions. She simply continued to pace as the banging on the doors grew louder and louder. Behind her, the gathering of professionals was getting impatient. Madame Vertlin was the worst of them all muttering things to her husband about having work to do and what not. Madame Giry simply ignored her as she did most of the time. Suddenly the doors opened a crack and the noise of the crowd filtered in as the managers pushed and shoved through the people and the guards fought to keep anyone that wasn't Andre and Firmin out. Finally the doors closed behind them and there was a quiet stillness that came over the foyer.

"Good morning everyone," Firmin said cheerfully, "to what to we owe the pleasure?"

"Very good question, Monsieur, we were all just told to be in the foyer before you arrived," Monsieur George Gravert said as he glared at Madame Giry, "the woman said it was important but once we got here she refused to tell us anything until you got here."

"Yes," Jeannine Vertlin said in a huff, "I am sorry Madame, but we all have a lot of work to do, its not like ballet is the only thing that keeps this theatre running."

Madame Giry shot the other woman a glare, it was true Madame Giry was the senior mistress of the theatre and therefore was the right hand to the managers. She had lived in the theatre for most of her life, first as a student and then as a teacher, and now she was the woman who called most of the shots, even more than the managers. Madame Vertlin stepped back and hid behind her husband as the managers also noticed Madame Giry's anger. The entire mood in the foyer had changed with a glance.

"Monsieurs and Madame," Madame Giry started and gave a harsh look to Jeannine, "I regret to be the bringer of such things but I have for each of you a note, from the Phantom."

A gasp from everyone rose in the foyer.

"And thus it starts," Andre sighed.

"He's doing it just to annoy us now," Firmin said as he took off his jacked, "and so, why have you waited to give everyone theirs?" he asked as he looked at Madame Giry.

"Because I too have a note," she said, "and it says..."

_My Dear Madame,_

_As the excitement for my drama grows, I regret to inform you that I must stay away from what is to happen. It is my belief that the managers wish to parade me around like a puppet on display and I do not look kindly on such things, however I will be and always am present. _

_Here, in a pile, I have notes for all of the area's of the performance. Take them and gather the highest ranked in the theatre and give them to them, but not before Andre and Firmin have read and understood what is in theirs. It is very important that everyone understand my orders for them._

_I do not take kindly to being treated as a plaything, and so it is I who will be playing the puppeteer. _

_O.G_

"Can you believe the nerve of some people," Jeannine said again as Madame Giry finished.

"It would be wise Madame," Andre started as he walked over to the seamstress and stared angrily into her eyes, "that you hold your tongue. You are new to the events of the Phantom of the Opera and I suppose that it was lucky for you, as you now have a job, but your mouth could get you in trouble if you don't shut up!" he said.

"Are you going to let him talk to me like that Joseph?" she asked her husband, her face as read as her hair.

"Yes," Joseph said as he turned on his wife, "I'd like to keep my life, thank you, and my job for that matter. You have heard the stories and know of the superstition. You'll obey the Phantom because it is not in my power to protect you around him. And furthermore, as I am your husband and the higher ranking worker here in the theatre you'll have to do as I say and shut your mouth or I'll be forced to keep you out of meetings like this one."

Jeannine was red with anger but didn't say another word. She walked back to the stairs and sat down close to Meg, grumbling to herself.

"Now, Madame Giry, what do you have for us?" Firmin asked as he and Andre stood before the ballet mistress.

"One for each of you," she said handing over the top two letters in the pile.

"Well, I suppose I'll go first," Firmin said as he opened the enveloped, pulled the paper out and unfolded it. He read out loud what was written.

_Dear Firmin,_

_It displeases me to see you so discontented with the drama, I assure you it will be a wonderful production, the jewel of the theatre no doubt but I would prefer that you sees all the rumours that you continue to spread about me. Yes I know you have been doing it. Should you continue with you present behaviour, I will only deal with Andre and he'll only deal with me because you are disposable._

_O.G_

"Well I suppose I deserved that," Firmin said as he folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope, "he can rest assured I'm completely dedicated to the drama now. You here that Monsieur," He shouted superstitiously into foyer, "I'm your obedient servant."

"I'm sure he'll be please with that," Madame Giry said sarcastically and then turned back to Andre, "clearly you are in better standings with the Ghost."

"I do hope so Madame," he said and opened his note. It was longer than Firmin's with much more writing and clearly many instruction. He read.

_Dear Andre,_

_First I would like to thank you for your enthusiasm through the whole process. It was wonderful to hear your rendition of my story in the Ballet Hall. Here are a few instructions, to get the process of auditioning and casting in order._

_To start I would like the posters in the front of the theatre removed and replaced. On them please fill in the following. By Thursday of this week we will open to doors to anyone interested in joining the dance troop. We will open the ballet hall to all interested participants starting at 9am. The auditions are to start at 12pm sharp. Auditions will be held in the main opera theatre, on the stage and will be viewed by Madame Giry our ballet mistress, Monsieur Reyer our conductor and the Managers. I will be there but I will not be seen unless I decide that it is needed. Secondly by Saturday of this week we will be starting our casting for the chorus. All people wanting to participate in the auditions must be present in the opera foyer for noon. The audition will happen in one large group with Monsieur Reyer conducting our small ensemble. The singers must be ready to sing Mozart's 'Ave Verum Corpus', I will be choosing the chorus. The chorus auditions will run in the same way Saturday, Sunday and Monday. Tuesday and Wednesday we will be casting the main sung rolls, starting with our Tenor and then followed shortly by our Soprano. Depending on how long we take, all singers wishing to audition for supporting characters must be present by Thursday at noon and must return until casting of vocal parts is finished on Friday. All choristers, and ballerinas for the angels and the daemons will be chosen as I watch the progress of our dancers and our singers. It will be at random during the time in which we are preparing the cast. You will know my decision before the cast moves to stage. Finally orchestral auditions will run on the second Saturday and Sunday of our audition period. Those will be viewed by Monsieur Reyer, and the Managers and once again I will be present but un seen. This will end our audition period. Casting will be finalised before the last Saturday of the month and rehearsals will begin._

_I do not wish to see my name placed on the posters at all. It was for your information only that I would be present and ultimately choosing the cast but it is not to be public knowledge as I don't want people snooping about in the opera house. If I am not pleased with the new posters they will come down tonight and you'll have to re draft them tomorrow._

_In closing, Andre, I do hope that everything is arranged and dealt with in the most serious nature. This is the most crucial part of our endeavour. I will be in touch._

_O.G_

_P.S.: do not let Firmin deal with the patrons, he'll only tell them negative things about me. I wish to keep a clean reputation, as it is the drama that is the most important part, not myself and my history. Also have Madame Giry double check your books, I've noticed some mistakes in your calculations already._

"He has so very little faith," Firmin said.

"Don't be ridiculous Firmin," Andre said and shot his partner an annoyed glare, "he's ambitious and clearly much more in tune with everything that goes on here than we once thought. I am actually pleased to know that he knows so much."

"He's certainly got an eye on things," Firmin chuckled.

"He's a busy body," Jeannine said and then fell back into her silence.

"And insane," Reyer said with a panicked look on his face, "today is already Tuesday, which mean's we have one day to prepare for the biggest audition period that we have seen."

"He must have full instruction in your notes," Madame Giry said as she handed out the rest of them to the men and women gathered on the foyer.

Monsieur Reyer quickly opened his and pulled out a short note with one line of text,

_Monsieur Reyer,_

_Please have the violin quartet ready to play 'ave verum corpus' for the chorus auditions._

_O.G_

"Well it seems like he wants to keep us all guessing," Monsieur Reyer said even more panicked than before.

"You're sure to get more notes, Monsieur," Andre smiled trying to calm the conductor down, "when you need to know something you'll know it."

"We are all puppets in his game," Reyer said, "and yet this game could save us all. Please excuse me everyone I have rehearsal to run before auditions start," he said and left the foyer

Monsieur and Madame Vertlin, opened their note only to find four pages of roughly drawn costumes and colour schemes. The dress makers wouldn't be able to start their work until the cast was chosen and they would be able to take the measurements of the people wearing the costumes. Monsieur Gravert's note was much the same with detailed set designs and measurements but also included paint colours and texturing ideas to make the fire look real. Monsieur Faireaux was given a list of hanging sets and ways to set lights and balances in the flies. It also included a warning that the Phantom would check the flies to make sure all was well and in order. Faireaux prayed he wouldn't be in the flies at the same time as the Phantom and vowed to do only his best work. Jaque Gravert was given the note for the stable master and was sent off to do is chores. There weren't to be many animals in the production but a few were needed.

"Have you noticed anything about 'La Diable'?" Madame Vertlin asked her husband as she flipped through the pages of drawings.

"I see nothing at all," he answered and looked to the managers, "you're notes said nothing about the characters nor did your Madame Giry. Are we to be left in the dark as to the identity and the look of the main character?"

"That's a very good question," Andre said as he and Firmin flipped their letters around.

Meg sat silently on the steps and stared at the paper in her hands. She hadn't noticed that the attention had all fallen on her. Her mother finally stepped forward in the silent group and placed her hand on Meg's shoulder.

"Is everything alright my darling?" her mother asked.

"Yes," Meg said as she stood and realised that everyone was staring at her.

"Well what does it say, Mademoiselle?" Andre asked.

"Its say," Meg began and then stopped. She turned the note around and held it up to the group to read. She couldn't bring herself to say the words that were written.

_Ma Belle Meg,_

_Congratulations, you have been chosen to play 'La Diable', I know you will make me proud. It is your dance and your grace that have inspired. I could think of no one more deserving than you to lead my drama. I know it will be difficult for you but you must believe that I can see no one else in this roll. I look forward to working with you and will be taking all responsibilities involving 'La Diable', until we meet again..._

_O.G_

"You, are to be _La Diable_?" Firmin gasped.

"Do not question the opera ghost, if he wants Meg then give her to him," Andre said as he tried to calm his partner.

"Have you been meeting with the Phantom?" Madame Giry asked fear in her eyes.

"He has been coming to me in the ballet hall," Meg said as she finally stood but the expression on her face was one of anger, "but don't worry about me. I trust him and his decisions. It is all of you who have so little faith in him. I suggest you all pay very close attention to his instructions and do exactly as he says. As for me, I have to practice, good day." she said and walked away from the group.

Madame Giry sat down on the steps and cradled her face in her hands. She wept with the memories of the things that had once happened to a beautiful young woman. Could it really be happening again, and this time to her own daughter? She felt a great sense of remorse, for it was she that had brought Meg to the Phantom in the first place, and yet Meg was not afraid. She had been acting strange but their was nothing to suggest that the Phantom had done anything to her. Madame Giry regained her composure and stood again, "well, I suppose I have to be the one to let down the ballerinas as to the casting of La Diable, so much for their renewed dedication to the craft," she sighed.

"Oh Madame, perhaps you can keep their attention by telling them that they are going to have to fight for the other rolls. Don't forget we are opening the auditions to men and women outside of the opera school," Andre said as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"You're right, we have to keep some of our dancers in the show," she smiled, "it is time for them to work even harder to gain the respect and bring honour to this schools name," she said and walked off toward the ballet hall.

Andre and Firmin watched as the others left the foyer. The crowd outside had become loud and shouting could be heard through the doors. They were left alone in the wide open space. Suddenly a scrap of paper fell from high above them. It landed face up on the floor between them. On it there was a rough sort of writing, hurried and clearly not with the intent of having others see it. It said,

_Monsieurs Andre and Firmin,_

_I am pleased with that meeting, even more so to see a renewed dedication to my ways. So long as every obeys me everything should work according to plan. Thank you again. And yes Firmin I did hear you. I'll believe it when I see it._

_O.G_


	14. An Unexpected Arrival

**_Chapter 14: An Unexpected Arrival_**.

The front, main entrance, to the theatre remained closed and barred for the entire day. The crowd grew and grew as people continued to read the posters that were hung on the walls. The only people that were allowed to pass through the crowd were the men and women that Andre and Firmin had summoned to help with the organising of the Phantoms orders. These people, however, were not ushered into the theatre through the front doors. They were brought around to the stables and then in through the stable entrance to the stage. Andre and Firmin met them and welcomed them before setting them all to work.

Shortly after the notes had been read, and even before they have completely been digested, the large announcement posters were ripped down off the building walls, by the workers of the theatre. A great gasp arose from the crowd gather in the square and some even seemed angry to see the great bulletins being removed. Within the hour of the old posters removal, the new posters were being hung. They were bigger and brighter than the last ones. Looking much like giant calendars that show the following weeks of the month. In each square something was written and at the top and the bottom great reminders of the audition protocol were stated. The men, women and children rejoiced in the streets to see the new announcements. The progress of the show was beginning to sink in. Some people hurried off singing and dancing to be ready for the start of auditions. Others hurried to the restaurants that lines the street and the shops and celebrated with wine and cakes. It was to be a great time once again for the theatre and soon, though still very busy by any standards, the square began to settle down.

Inside the theatre, Madame Giry had broken the news to the young ballerinas. They were upset for what seemed like a fraction of a moment before Madame Giry rose their hopes again. They worked hard, without complaint, until Meg entered the practice hall. It was as if someone had turned on a light, for every girl in the room stared at Meg. They congratulated her out loud but cursed her under their breath. Meg could feel it as she walked through but she ignored it and went on to her practice. As she placed her dancing shoes on her feet and began to move along the other ballerinas watched. Some had tears gathering in their eyes as they watched her practice, other simply stared in awe, until Madame Giry yelled at them to continue their practice. It was clear to all of them why Meg had been chosen to play the roll of _La Diable_.

Meg remained in the ballet hall for most of the day. She practice and she stretched and continued as she would under normal circumstances. When the other ballerinas had left for their afternoon tea, Meg remained. She welcomed the quiet and watched patiently as each and every dancer left. Once they were out of the hall, she removed her ballet slippers and placed her aching feet on the cool, hardwood floor. The coolness of the wood soothed her acting feet and she was reminded of the way the Phantom wanted her to dance for this production. She moved gently and gracefully across the floor. Her feet never wavering at the lack of support from her ballet slippers. She danced on until she heard a noise in the back of the hall. She stopped as fear filled her entire being. Her mother stood watching her.

"Is that the dance the Phantom wants you to do?" Madame Giry said sternly a look of displeasure on her face.

"Yes, mother," Meg said as she lowered her eyes to the floor and placed herself in her prime positions to be punished.

"I suppose I don't have to agree with everything Erik has chosen," Madame Giry said as she came closer to her daughter, "and there is much technique in your dance," she continued as she walked a circle around Meg, "but I am amazed at the emotion my dear," she said her voice softening.

Meg finally brought her eyes up from the floor and looked at her mother. A look of pride had taken hold of the older woman's face. Meg smiled finally for the first time in what seemed like ages.

"I'd been worried you'd punish me the moment you saw what the Phantom asked of me," Meg said with a sigh of relief.

"I would have," Madame Giry said as she continued to walk in a circle around her daughter, "had I not know that you had been chosen as the dancer of choice for the drama, I would have told you to place those slippers back on your feet and to pirouette until you couldn't possible do it any longer then I would have told you to stop your crying and to do it again. But because I know that you have been working with the Phantom I cannot say anything as to his technique in his teaching because I have never seen you look so graceful and strong as a dancer. I am proud of you my darling but I don't want to see you dancing like this when any of the other ballerinas are practising."

"Never mother," Meg said, "I would never promote such a lack of technique or discipline to your students."

"I know you wouldn't my dear," Madame Giry smiled.

Mother and daughter shared an embrace in the silence of the ballet hall. It only lasted a moment as the other ballerinas would be returning to their practice momentarily but it was a touching moment none the less. When Madame Giry had released her daughter, Meg rushed to replace her ballet slippers before anyone entered. She had just managed to slip them on as the door at the far side of the hall opened. She stood up straight as both women looked to the door. The ballerinas were not the ones to cause the interruption, instead Andre and Firmin walked briskly toward them, followed by another person but they could not make that person out behind the taller men.

"Madame, we have a surprise for you," Andre said as they stopped only inches away from Meg and her mother.

"I don't know if I can take any more surprises today," Madame Giry sighed.

"Ah well then we will cut to the chase," Firmin said, "one of your students have returned." he said and stepped aside.

Behind the two men stood a plain looking woman. Dressed in more fashionable clothing but clearly suffering in social standing. It took a moment for Madame Giry and even Meg to recognise who the person was.

"Christine," Meg gasped as she looked on an older version of her friend.

The three years since Christine Daae had left the theatre truly had aged her beyond her years. She looked tired and pail. Her eyes weren't as bright as they had once been. It was no wonder people believed her to be gone from Paris. She looked so different from what she had once been. Her look spoke loudly of the trials that she had gone through and yet she walked tall with pride and the precision of all of her ballet training. The clothing, though newer in style, was clearly warn and Christine looked to have lost weight as the clothing hung off her body. Never the less she looked pleased to see her old friends and no fear lived within her eyes as she stepped into the sun light that flooded the ballet hall. It almost seemed as if she had sighed with relief to be home.

"Meg it is so good to see you!" Christine said and took her dear old friend in an embrace.

"Why have you returned to such a place of horror," Madame Giry asked as she looked at the run down young woman that stood before her.

"I need your help," Christine said as she lowered her eyes to the floor, "I had vowed never to return, I know that, but I must. It's a long and private story that I may tell you sometime. But for now I wish to ask that you take me back into the ballet troop. I wish to dance again."

"Are you sure this is a wise decision?" Firmin asked a sudden memory striking him with a newfound fear.

"If it is or if it isn't I can't choose," Christine said, "please. I am begging you."

"Alright," Madame Giry said after a moment of silence, "will you be staying within the theatre dormitories?" she asked.

"I had hoped to," Christine said her eyes sparkling.

"Please Monsieurs, could you leave us alone for a moment, if Madame du Chagny is to remain in the theatre I will fetch you to make the arrangements. For now I wish to have a word with her in private," Madame Giry said and walked toward the far end of the ballet hall, "Meg set the ballerinas to practice some more. I'll return shortly," and with that she and Christine walked from the room.

Meg stood silently and waited for the ballerinas to return. They looked at her strangely as she stood alone in the practice hall but knew the look that had crossed her face. It was one of the same looks that her mother always gave. With a sharp glance and a motion to the recently returned pianist, the ballerinas lined up and followed as Meg led them in a series of steps and stretches. Though they would never tell anyone, the younger ballerinas were pleased and excited just to be able to watch as Meg tried to lead them through rehearsal. They felt awed to be in the presence of such a great dancer.


	15. Christine's Confession

_**Chapter 15: Christine's Confession**_

Christine and Madame Giry walked in silence through the halls of the theatre, until they came to Madame Giry's office. It also served as her living quarters and many of the ballerinas had come to this place for council. Christine, in her time, had spent many happy and sad hours with Madame Giry and it felt so natural and welcoming now that she was in the position to do it again. The office hadn't changed at all in the years that Christine had been away, everything looked as it once had.

Christine smiled as Madame Giry motioned for her to sit down but it was clear that the madame wasn't as pleased as Christine. The look on her face was one of concern and fear but she set it aside and looked at the woman who sat in her office.

"Do you think this is wise?" Madame Giry asked as she took a seat across from Christine and looked deeply at her.

Christine felt as if Madame Giry was trying to burn deep into her soul as she looked at her. It was an almost uncomfortable stare. Clearly whatever Christine said it would take a lot to convince the one mother she had every known, "it has to be," Christine said with a sigh, "I have no other choice anymore," she said deciding that the truth was probably her best corse of action.

"How so?" the madame asked.

"Well," Christine hesitated, "Raoul is dead and I have little to my name."

"How can this be?" Madame Giry gasped.

"We all have our secrets, I suppose, some darker than others, Raoul had his. Though he hid them well from all of us, he had a distraction back then, once we married I saw everything. Really all he had left was his name after the theatre and the phantom business. His family had invested much in this place but he had some habits that were catching up with him as well. Early last year I noticed the gambling more and more until he had to tell me that we had nothing left." she said as tears grew in her eyes.

"My dear this is terrible," Madame Giry gasped, "how was this all possible, you both had so much promise."

"Yes I thought so too," Christine said, "and our love, or lust, whatever you want to call it, lasted for a little while, but it faded very quickly and we were both becoming unhappy. He took out loans to fuel his habit and I stayed in the house he had bought me. At first everything went well. I was happy and we had the help we needed to run the household, but soon we had to let them go and one by one they left. Then it was our china, and my jewelry, followed by the clothing and the linens. Until one day Raoul came home with men and told me that they were taking everything," she had begun sobbing by now.

Madame Giry handed the woman a handkerchief and waited as Christine tried to compose herself. It was a very terrible thing to watch the young woman, who looked much older than she should have, sit there across from her and tell the trying stories of the young. Madame Giry sighed and waited. She knew what was to come and yet she feared far more for the safety of someone other than Christine.

"Please, Christine, go on," She said softly and waited some more.

"We had to leave the house, and I thought, for sure this would be the last. Raoul would realise and seek help for his problems but it didn't happen. He only kept it up. We lived as long as we could in a hotel before we had no other choice but beg his parents to take us in. They agreed, though they never liked me, and we were back under a safe roof and living a life of great wealth once again. It was probably our worst move. By this time our relationship had faded, it was becoming more and more difficult to even talk to him. He was away all the time. His parents wouldn't converse with me, I was simply there. It gave me plenty of time to think. It was a very dark time for me," she had stopped and began to cry again.

"Are you still childless?" Madame Giry asked as gently as she could.

"Yes, thank God," Christine sobbed, "this life is no life to bring a child into, though we did try. I even thought, it was so stupid of me, that if we had a child then it would bring Raoul back to me and away from his lady luck but it never happened. I couldn't get pregnant and now I am thankful that it didn't happen. How would I raise a child now?"

"His parents would not have helped you had you bore his child?" Madame Giry asked looking concerned by now.

"I doubt it," Christine sighed, "they saw me as nothing more than a peasant girl moving in on their fortunes as it were. They though the baby idea was just a ploy for me to keep my hand in their money. Had I had anywhere to go I would have left a long time ago," she said pulling herself together.

Madame Giry watched the girl as she spoke about her problems. A change in her composure was so obvious it seemed like a weighed really was lifted off the young woman. Her eyes almost shown with hope behind the redness from her tears. It melted the old woman's heart to see this young woman like this and yet she knew that this had to be difficult to make Christine realise just have dangerous her decision to return could be.

"And so how did Raoul die?" Madame Giry asked.

Christine had been waiting for the question for a long time and here it had finally presented itself, "it really was a great blow to all of us. He knew of the turmoil he had been bringing on everyone and I do believe that he did love me, but he was aware of the hatred in his family for me. It wasn't long before his loans caught up with him and he couldn't convince his parents to pay anymore. They threatened to throw the both of us out again and he knew that if he could not pay the loans that the collectors would kill him anyway. He through himself into the river and I was thrown out before the incense from the funeral had cleared," she said and looked down at the floor, "they gave me enough money to take up a hotel for a few days. I prayed a lot during my time alone in that hotel room. What was I to do? I am back to being an orphan with nothing to my name and no prospects of a better life." she had begun to cry again.

"And so what brought you back here?" Madame Giry asked as she had shifted through some of her paper work that lay on the table beside her.

"When I saw that the theatre was premiering a great new work I saw it as a sign," she said finally looking at her teacher once more, "a new beginning of sorts," her eyes were pleading with the old woman now, "it was like the angels have always been looking out for me. I was so blessed to be a part of this place long ago and I wish to returned. Something is beckoning me back to this place," she said as she finally reached out and took Madame Giry's hand, "please I am begging you, I need a place to live. I will work hard and dance. Its all I want to do now. Its all I have ever known."

"Now you listen to me," Madame Giry said as she squeezed tightly to her hand, "it hasn't been as long as you may think." she hissed at the young woman. Christine tried to pull away from the old woman's grip but it no use, "The Phantom is back but not by his own choice and wicked things flow in the minds of men. It is a dangerous place to be living in the opera populair right now. Are you sure you want to deal with this?"

"I have no where else to go," Christine said fear in her eyes. Her hands had begun to shake, "there are more dangerous things out side of these walls. I think we all know that." she said.

"Very well," Madame Giry said after a moment, "you can remain in the ballet troop but that is all I will consent too. If the phantom comes to you and you are put into danger again it is not by my doings and everyone will know that I was against this idea from the very beginning. Do you understand?" she asked squeezing the girls hand very tightly.

"Yes," Christine said her voice shaking.

"Do you have much to bring to this place," the old woman asked finally letting go of the young woman's hand and falling back into her chair, looking tired and worried and far older than she had every looked before.

"Just the cloths on my back," Christine said softly not able to look at the woman again.

"Alright, we'll move you back into the ballet dormitories. You'll be fed and fitted with new practice clothing. Tomorrow you begin with your lessons again. I do not wish to hear anything further on the matter. If this is to be a new beginning for you, Christine de Chagny, then the past will be ignored so long as you are under my tutelage. Is that clear?" Madame Giry said forcefully.

"Yes, Madame," Christine said, "but please I have been told not to go by De Chagny. I am simply Christine Daae."

"Fine," Madame Giry said and stood again, "as you know, your place is in the dormitories or in the ballet hall. You are not to wonder around the theatre unless you are invited. You are free to take leave from the theatre by the evening but must return to the dormitory before eleven o-clock. If you do not follow the rules of the theatre then you will be punished. Punishment can be as light as a tap on the hands or as harsh as banishment from the theatre," the old woman said as if she was addressing any new ballerina to the company.

Christine's heart sank further and further as she remembered how long it had taken her to make her way through the ranks of the ballerinas and to gain the privileges of the others. Here she was once more in a placed she had been when she was very young and had first come to the opera populair. She clearly was a no body in this world now. She hadn't danced in well over three years and she knew it would be difficult for her to get back into it. She had lost her body strength and much of her knowledge of the craft had left her. She was starting a new, from the very beginning and if was very scary once again. Little time had really passed, three years isn't that long of a time, and yet all that she had done before this meeting has been lost. She would have to prove herself once more as a ballerina and as a singer. She fell silent as she listened to the teachers speech. Sadness filled her heart. She had gotten used to a good life and now she would have to digress. This place, in the dark office that had once been so welcoming, now felt like the rock bottom of a great black hole. It was cold and unfriendly but at least there was a shelter over her head.

Madame Giry led her out of the office and off to the ballet hall. They passed the younger girls busy at work with Meg. Christine never let her eyes rise off the floor.

"Straighten up, mademoiselle," Madame Giry said as she stopped in the middle of the ballet hall and turned to Christine, "if you are to be a ballerina again you must start to act like one. Straighten up."

Christine did as she was told, and every other ballerina in the hall, who had heard the comment, did the same. The ballet mistress was in a terrible disposition, it would not be a pleasant practice.

The two women walked quickly. Christine kept her eyes down but her body became ridged and straight. She could feel the muscles she hadn't used in a long time, becoming tense and sore already as she tried to walk along as she had once been taught. It wasn't going to be as easy as she had believed it would be. She was now, no more than a beginner in the troop, no one special by anyone's mind. They walked over to Meg and stopped.

"She's staying, tell the managers and work the girls until I return. It shouldn't take long to get Miss. Daae settled," The old woman said to her daughter.

Meg's eyes darted from her mother's to Christine's and then back. A sudden fear had struck her down to her very soul but she had to try and hide it, "yes madame," Meg said with a courtesied to her mother and quickly moved off to tell the managers. She had left before her mother could notice just how white her face had gone.

"Stop staring and practice," Madame Giry called out with a hint of anger riding on her voice.

The young ballerinas jumped at the booming sound of their teachers voice and continued on with their practice.

Madame Giry didn't continue on to the ballet dormitories until she was certain that her students had all realised the extent of her displeasure. No one dared to act up now and soon she moved off with Christine.


	16. No Need to Worry

_**Chapter 16: No Need to Worry.**_

Meg ran as fast as she could to the managers office. People must have thought some great crisis had occurred, the way she was running. Her face was covered with concern and she held her breath as she travelled through crowds of people. It was strange to see so many unknown people around her, the theatre had begun to fill with newcomers even though the doors remained shut to the public. They all turned to stair at her as she ran. She could hear whispers rise from them, but she had to ignore them. She felt the urgency that was needed to tell the people of the development. Deep down inside her she didn't see Christine's return as a blessing to the theatre but as a great sign that nothing good was to come. She arrived, out of breath, at their office and knocked frantically until someone answered.

"For the love of god," Firmin gasped as he swung open the door. Meg was in mid knock as the door opened, "what is the matter child?"

"Mama is letting Christine remain and she is rejoining the ballet troop," she said as her voice cracked, "I have been told to come and tell you," she said then stared at them for a response.

"That's splendid," Andre smiled at the young woman, "don't you think?"

"Yes, you and Christine were incredibly close," Firmin said as he walked to the desk and sat down.

"Weren't you?" Andre asked as he watched as the panic and fear grew on the young woman's face, "aren't you happy to have your friend back?"

Meg stood in silence and pondered a moment, the comments of the managers. It hadn't really crossed her mind, that she should be pleased or not, to have her childhood friend back. For some reason the fear and anxiety was far greater than the joy to be reunited with a friend. She had gained a new friend, a friend that would be more affected than anyone by the return of the young diva and she didn't want to see him hurt anymore. She had seen the depression and the consequences from the actions of his passion toward her. Now was not a time to be bringing her back into the theatre. No good could come of their meeting again. But she had to cover her concern. It would be no good for a ballerina to speak her mind before two men who practically owned her.

"I suppose I am," Meg said finally just to please them. She gave them a forced smile and they seemed to interpret it properly for they smiled back at her.

"I should think it would be great publicity as well to have the young diva back in the company," Firmin said as he looked across the desk at Andre.

Meg's mouth fell open in astonishment. He couldn't possibly dream of using her to cause that kind of tension again, could he? It was he who wanted to rebuild the glory of the theatre. Who had planned and plotted to find the Phantom and who had placed her mother in such a potion to bring back the tension as it was. How on earth could he be so selfish and only see this for the money? She asked herself but she was to stunned to say anything out loud.

"Don't be silly," Andre said with half a laugh.

Meg gave out a sigh of relief, at least one of them had some common sense.

"It would only be bad publicity," he added, "have you not seen how dreadfully plain and old she was looking. People would only be disappointed to see her like that," Andre chuckled.

Meg sighed again, this time with disgust for both men. It was clear they cared for nothing more than the money and fame that they hoped the theatre would bring.

"I believe your right," Firmin said, "lets hope she doesn't bring down the quality of the ballet troop."

"She'll be nothing compared to out star," Andre said and smiled again at Meg.

Meg blushed and excused herself from the office. She couldn't take anymore of their selfishness and the nonsense that they spoke about Christine. They weren't even thinking straight. They had become to comfortable with the prospects of the opera being populated and a success again that they had lost the fear and respect for the composer. Meg sighed, it wouldn't be long now before things fell apart.

She made her way, slowly, back to the ballet hall. Remorse had struck her now. She hadn't even though of the wonderful times she had once known with a girl who was as close to a sister as she had ever had and to see her now, the melancholy in her eyes and the tests that time had put her through. Could it have all been worse than the things that had happened here in this place? Maybe this really was all that she had left in the world. If all of the money was gone, and the comfort that a man had promised her was taken away, maybe all that she really could do was to return to something familiar. Meg had begun to feel sorry for Christine, and not because of the things that had once happened in the opera house but because of the bad things, that Erik had warned her about, that the really world possessed. And yet, at the back of her mind, she was worried that things around the opera populair had begun to snowball out of control. Where could all this selfishness and ideas of richness be leading them, other than in the wrong direction. It was a frightening prospect, Meg didn't know what to turn to.

She returned to the ballet hall and continued in her work, with the younger girls. Madame Giry also returned but Christine did not come back to the ballet hall that day and though her mother had come and taken over the teaching of the younger students, Meg remained till the end of practice.

When the end had come, Meg stayed until the ballerinas had left and she was left alone again with her mother. Madame Giry seemed to pace nervously before the windows as the sun began to set outside.

"I don't know if it is wise or not, but I think Erik should know and know soon," Madame Giry said as she turned to face her daughter, "this all could mean disaster, again."

"I know, and I am feeling the same fear that you are. But I think he needs to know, he deserves to at least," Meg said finally as she changed from her ballet slippers to her shoes and held took her ballet shoes into her hands as though they were precious jewels.

"I've told her that she has the same privileges as the younger ballerinas. We can't have her wondering," Madame Giry said nervously.

"If Erik wants to see her, he'll see her," Meg said after a moment of silence between the two women, "we can do nothing to stop it. He knows this place much better than all of us. He'd fine a way, I am sure, and we know that he has the capacity to obtain access to everywhere."

"She's changed," The older woman whispered, "I can't tell if it is a good changed but bad things have happened to her. Its going to be a struggle for us all to keep her and deal with her at least that is what her eyes tell me."

"We'll have to deal with it," Meg said, "for she is back in the theatre and once again a part of this family. We can't turn her away now."

"She has nothing anymore, Raoul is dead and her lust is gone. She is plain and old and I don't know if she'll be able to do any of the things that she once could. She may be more of a burden than an asset to us, but I couldn't say no."

"you have an enormous heart mother," Meg said as she placed a hand on her mothers shoulder, "and you could never stop mothering her, I could tell that you missed her and the moment I saw the two of you together. I saw that motherly love you have for her. It is not your fault you care for your children, whether they are your flesh or your charge. I admire you and I know you have the strength we all need to get through this. But for now, we can't worry about it. We must be open to the challenges that are coming to us. Everyone knows that this production is going to be a great challenge of all of us. Such is live I guess." Meg said as she hugged her ballet slippers close to her heart, "we just have to remember why we are all here. It is something that Erik knows to well and we need to take his example on it and follow him with selfless hearts and open minds."

"You are right my child," Madame Giry smiled, "so wise, you've become. I leave it to you to tell Erik what you think he needs to know. Now go, I know that you are needed in another place to work. I believe you to be safe with him now."

"I have grown to trust him and you, and no one else," Meg whispered to her mother, "everyone else in this place works against us. You must trust the people that trust their talents and the things that they create. Not the ones that see this all as money and popularity."

"Lets hope that isn't the reason Christine returned," Madame Giry sighed and walked out of the ballet hall.

Meg was left alone in the setting sun as the idea of her childhood companion being changed by the outside world. Could it be that Christine was simply here for the publicity? Why else would she have any reason to return to a place that caused so much horror and pain in her life? Was her life outside really that bad to bring her back to such a dark time. Meg prayed that this wasn't the reason, but something stung deep down within her. She would have to talk about this with Erik to see what he though about it. It was time for her to start her lessons with the Phantom of the Opera.

* * *

_Dear Readers,_

_I hope you are all enjoying this story. I have really grown attached to it and the things that are to come make me very excited to get there. But I am trying my best to be patient when it comes to writing and I don't want to hurry the story along to much. That is why I am writing this little message to you. Please review and tell me how you feel about the story so far? Is it moving along steady enough and or is it building up to too much? I need to know. Please._

_Angel_


	17. Down Once More

_**Chapter 17: Down Once More.**_

Darkness was falling outside of the theatre and yet inside things remained bright. There was much to much work to be done to let things slip to suddenly into the darkness. However, the darkness was what Meg really longed for. She found herself wishing for the council and the encouragement from the Phantom, but sadly she believed that her news would through him into yet another fit of his depression. Slowly she moved through the theatre, trying to remain unseen, as she made her way to the great, spiral of stone steps, that lead down into the darkness. Once more she would find herself heading down and longing for what she found at the bottom. She felt safe and comfortable with the prospect of seeing Erik again because she knew that none of this was forced upon her. It was her own choice to go to him and to take from him the knowledge that he could give.

A cool burst of air hit her face as she entered into the darkness of the stairs. The sound of her feet on the stone echoed as she walked. She held her ballet slippers close to her heart a she descended, faster and faster into the silence that was below. It was like she couldn't wait any longer to tell him of what had happened that day. Even if he already knew she felt that she needed to see him and to talk to him and that somehow he would make things right, or at least feel right. She hoped that he would be able to advise her on how to proceed into this new stage of life.

Downward she travelled, it almost felt like there were more stairs than before. Her eyes took a long time to adjust to the darkness. She felt herself slowing down as the darkness grew thicker and she couldn't see in front of her. It was almost as if there was a fog filling the cylinder that sunk into the earth. Cool air from below was mixing with the warm air above, it gave her chills. She had to stop. A fear and panic set in, she couldn't tell where she was or how far she had travelled. The cold was thick and her arms were bare in the practice garments she had been wearing. She had left her rose blanket behind in her room. It was now something she treasured greatly and didn't want the others to notice it, but now she longed to have it wrapped around her. She closed her eyes tightly and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down but she was feeling dizzy and off balance. She moved so that she was sitting down and leaned against one wall.

"You'll be fine," she told herself as she blinked her eyes trying to get them to focus, "you're just scared, everything will be fine in a moment," she whispered to herself as she closed her eyes again.

"Take my hand," Erik's voice could be heard in the darkness.

"Where are you?" Meg asked as she opened her eyes again to the darkness.

"Right before you," he said and touched her hand, "I'll guide you out of this fog, come." he said softly almost in a whisper.

Meg was almost reluctant as she took hold of his hand and followed him. She moved slowly, but he didn't seem to mind. The darkness was so thick she had to feel, with her feet, her way down the stairs. It was a slow process and the fog never seemed to get any lighter. It was as if it remained fixed in placed.

"This is so strange," she said as she stumbled a little and Erik caught her.

"I apologies, it is my fault," Erik said as they continued to walk.

"You control the fog?" Meg asked, awe filling her voice.

"It isn't as complicated as one might thing," Erik said a bit of a chuckle on his voice, "I just can't risked the new comers travelling to deep into the earth. It is all part of my security here."

"I understand," Meg said as she held tighter to his hand and silently followed him into the darkness.

This woman held tight to his hand. Erik could feel her insecurities and hesitations as they walked. She didn't speak anymore as they moved on but the tightening and loosening of her grip spoke volumes of the trust she had developed in him. She pulled back feeling the edge of the steps. They were uneven, he could tell that she felt them, and this was building her insecurities. After a few moments he felt her grip change again. She whimpered as she tripped and regained her balance but her hand now shook. He stopped, he had grown accustom to the fog, he created it. It was a measure of precaution to keep newcomers from letting their curiosity take over but now he was feeling guilty for putting her through it.

"Why have we stopped?" Meg asked her voice shaking, "I can't hear the water, nor do I feel the dampness, only cold and silence."

He let go of her hand for only a moment.

"Where did you go," she cried as she dropped her ballet slippers in a panic and through her hands out before her, "please don't leave me in this," her voice cracking with emotion.

"I'm right here," he said grabbing one of her hands again. He had removed his gloves to feel her better and was shocked by the chill that her cold fingers gave him, "you're frigged, Meg," he said as he held her tiny hands.

"I didn't think to dress for something like this," she said as his touched seemed to calm her.

"Come, we'll hurry on," he said quickly, "you'll be warmer once we are further below."

Meg shivered a little, not from the cold but from the warmth of his hands and the gentleness in which he held hers. It was a strange feeling for her. She felt cold and yet the warmth from his hands seemed to warm her much deeper than she could imagine. His hands were soft but strong, it was clear that he was very proper by the way he took care of his hands.

Meg pulled herself closer to him, her entire body was shaking now, not with cold but from the fright, "oh thank god," she whispered clearly holding back her tears.

"You need not worry," he whispered as he felt the weight of her against him. Her free arm had rapped itself around his waist and her head rested on his chest. He could feel her trembling all over, "I wont let anything happen to you." they stood in an embrace in the darkness for a long moment as Meg composed herself.

Realising what she had done in her fear, Meg quickly pulled away from him. The darkness was still very thick and she didn't release his hand but she did put space between their two bodies, "I'm sorry," she said as she took a deep breath to calm herself, then she bent down, never letting go of his hand, and felt the floor for her slippers. She found them and stood again, "I am ready to continue now," she said and fell silent again.

They walked onward, the darkness clearing only slightly. Meg could now see the edge of the steps at her feet but still couldn't make out any of the Phantom's features, aside from his now gloveless hands. Soon they stopped, before they reached the water, and the wall of stone was moved aside again.

Behind the wall the air was warmer and the darkness wasn't thick with fog but Meg continued to hold tight to his hand. She remained fixed to him until they stepped out into the light of the Phantom's green space. Tiny white flowers had appeared in the mossy ground cover. The animals rested lazily here and there as they walked toward the house. It looked more beautiful than before and smelled of fresh spring rain. Meg was amazed that so much life could happen so far below the surface.

When they reached the great doors Erik finally turned back to her and looked deep into her eyes. She couldn't make out his expression behind his masked as he looked at her. Feeling almost defeated she looked to the ground.

"What horrors have passed today?" he asked as he walked closer to her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

Meg looked up, touched the mask on his face, and pulled it off before she spoke, "Christine Daae has returned," she said and watched as his faced changed before her eyes. His hands fell away from her and an aching grew in her heart, "I'm so very sorry to bring you this news," she said as she lowered her eyes to the ground and began to cry.

The expression on his face was that of a terrible realisation. Was his heart ready for her to be back. But something else ached within him, what was he feeling now? Why did he feel so much pain for this girl before him who wept, not to look on his face but to see into his soul. He knew that she had seen his change and could tell, as she cradled the mask in her hand, that she had been dreading her task of telling him.

"Why is she back," Erik asked as he sat down on the steps before his house and looked up at Meg.

"Mother says that she has no where else to go. That the Viscount is dead and that her money is gone," Meg said softly through her tears.

"And you don't believe this to be true?" Erik asked still looking up at her.

"I am a terrible person to be thinking it," Meg sobbed as she collapsed to her knees before this man, "she was my friend and yet I can't see her coming back to this."

"Because of me?" Erik asked as he took her face in his hands.

Meg shook her head, "no, I think you are the reason she has come back. But not for the reason which you desire," her voice cracked, "I am a terrible person to think it." she sobbed.

"No," Erik said, "you aren't, because you are probably right. Your heart is to pure, and you wear it on your sleeve. You are so very upset because you know of the corruption of man but you do not want to see your friend falling subject to it, but you know that it must be true. You believe that Christine has come back for the publicity and the fame of the controversy, don't you?"

Tears streamed down Meg's face and into his hands. He had read everything that had been in her mind. Was it flowing out of her like the water from her eyes? Was he absorbing it as they fell. She nodded and pulled herself away. She sobbed into her hands, which still held the Phantom's mask.

"Why, do you cry such tears for me?" he asked as he reached out to her again, "I am nothing but a beast. This face that attracts the horrors of the world and brings the negative attention that everyone is seeking."

"I'm not," Meg said, "never, ever would I seek anything like that, I promise you that," she said as she held the mask to her heart.

Erik's eyes softened then, he looked at the poor girl. Her face was red and patched from crying. It almost reminded him of his own face, though her redness would fade and his would last forever. Not knowing where the emotion came from, he moved forward and pulled the girl toward him. Her face sunk into his clothing and her body rested heavily against his, "I know you would never treat me like that," he said as he gently rocked her and caressed her hair, "thank you for showing me such kindness."

"No one deserves what people put you through," Meg sobbed as she embraced him back, "I am sorry for them, though I cannot undo what they have done, I can try and protect you from it, from now on."

"How will you protect me?" Erik chuckled a little as he moved her to look into her eyes, "it is I who should protect you."

"You've given me far greater things than protection," Meg said with a sniffle, "please, promise me you'll allow me to try."

Erik looked lovingly down into her tear stained eyes. He had so many questions for her about what he was feeling. It wasn't anything he had ever felt with Christine or for her. Was this love? He asked himself as he felt himself holding tighter onto this woman. She looked on him without fear and carried with her a great heartache for him, could she be feeling it too? He wondered.

"Please," she begged as she looked up at him, "please be careful, I am afraid that nothing is to go right from now on. I am so very afraid for you. How can any good come from this now. Please, oh please just stay down here and let the opera die. I couldn't bare to know that anything bad could happen again."

"Meg, it is beyond stopping now," he said, "if it is to happen then we must let it. I couldn't possibly stop the art now."

"But its not the art that is flowing out of control, it is the greed and the hatred," she said as she pulled herself up to look into his eyes.

"You cannot stop the corruption, it will always be there and it will always grow worse, we have to adapt to it," he said.

"No, we could hide from it, down here where its beautiful and quiet and simple," she said as tears continued to roll down her face, "no one will find us here."

"I could never keep you down here," he whispered.

"I want to stay," she persisted.

"Meg, please listen to me, I could never keep you down here when you do so much for your craft, for the art. It would be a crime to the arts to take you away from the stage. To not let the rest of the world see the beauty of your dance. You have to dance, for the love of it and the art of it you have to. Not for the money or the fame or any of those things that glow to brightly and cloud the minds of men, but because you are the living art. Do you understand, this show must happen to show the world the beauty that is you," he said as he wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"Oh, but how can it be beautiful?" she asked her eyes pleading for the knowledge she wished so much for, "how can I make it beautiful if I they can't appreciate the beauty that is in you?"

Erik was touched by her words. No one had ever said anything was ever beautiful about him and here was a young woman, who's heart was flowing out like her tears, and who looked upon him with no fear, and was telling him there was beauty in him. How could it be possible. He knew that his music was beautiful but he never thought it of himself. He looked at her with questions in his eyes.

"How can a man, who write music as you do, who makes the music flow that inspires the dance and the singing not be beautiful himself?" she said as she looked deep into his eyes, "I know you want to know the answers. Its inside you and always has been." she sighed and pulled away from the embrace. She moved herself so that she now sat beside him on the steps and looked out on the green space. The peace and the beauty that lay deep below the surface of the earth. She pulled his arm around her and moved closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder, "I'll dance as long as you want me to dance, and I'll dance as long as you continue to let the beauty within you flow out," she whispered, "because it is that music that makes me see and feel the beauty of the dance. I can't see it with all the corruption and the lies that people are telling. But if you believe it is there then I will continue."

"Then it is settled," he said as he leaned into her.

"I suppose it is," she sighed, "but how are we to change all the bad to good?"

"We'll make it right," he whispered and held her on the steps of his quiet world. It seemed more peaceful and welcoming than it had every felt before.


	18. Deep Secrets

_**Chapter 18: Deep Secrets.**_

Meg and Erik sat for a long while in silence on the steps to his house. The greens and the whites and all the other colours filled the space that they looked out on. It was amazing to see that the brick of the walls had taken on a mossy green colour. The ceiling had as well but was littered with pipes and bits of creeping vines that had made their way up the wall. Roses in pots around the space had begun to open as well, since the last time Meg had visited. Birds sang and flew from the trees that were well kept and flourishing. Tangae paced a bit before coming and resting at their feet. She nudged Meg's ballet slippers, which she had dropped, with he large black nose and Meg reached out to collect them.

"Perhaps we should get to work," Erik said as he watched Meg lay her hands gently on the Tigers head.

Tangae's eyes closed as Meg scratched behind her ears. Her long stripped tale twitched on the green, mossy earth. She was a beautiful animal, once you got past the fear of seeing a tiger in front of you. Meg enjoyed the feel of the animals fur and had almost ignored Erik's comment. She wasn't quite ready to leave the peacefulness of the open space. She was just to curious about everything that she was seeing. Most of the animals that ran free in the Phantom's green space were clearly not indigenous to Paris. The colours of the birds and the movements of the smaller creatures were enough to mesmerise her. She had never seen anything like them before.

"How on earth have you come to have such wonderful creatures?" she asked as a bright red parrot landed on Erik's outstretched arm.

"Like I said I haven't always lived in this opera house," he smiled.

"But you would have had to travel the world and how on earth did you get them back here?"she asked.

"Many of them came here as small animals. I was used to hiding as I travelled, its not as hard as one may thing. If people aren't looking to see the negative then most of the time it can completely pass them by," he said as the bird flew away again, "if people didn't know I was there, had never seen my face before, then they didn't normally pay much attention if I was present, nor did they see my animals or the packages in which they were stored."

"But how could you come to have a tiger?" Meg asked as she motioned to the grandeur of the cat at her feet, "surely people would notice a large cat."

"Tangae has been with me a very long time," Erik sighed, "but now it is time for us to work."

"Oh please tell me how you came to have her," Meg begged as Tangae looked at him as well, but Erik had already risen from his seat and had opened the door, "please."

"It's a terrible story," he said as they were both inside, "we were both very young then."

"I can tell it pains you," Meg said as she watched the man's disposition change, "what happened?"

"I had been travelling for much of my youth. It wasn't hard back then to fit in with different kinds of people, simpler people, and I learned many useful and frighting things," he said as she stopped and turned to face her, "people can be heartless in the worst ways. Innocence is nothing to mess with and it is even more terrible to see the cruelty to the things that cannot fight for themselves. Tigers in the wild are fears, because of their predatory nature. It is their way of life and humans are the ones that take for granted the habitats and the wonderful lands where only the animals live. I had to learn this the hard way." he said as he led her into a small parler. The fire was bright and alive at the hearth and the furnishings were very inviting, "come, please sit," he said as he motioned to a chair. He sat across from her, "perhaps it is the right time to tell you these things, you'll understand why I must stay here and the importance of this safe place."

"Please go on," Meg said as she relaxed into the comfortable chair.

"I had spent quite a bit of time in India, strange traditions and even darker histories, stranger even than my own, had pulled me to the place, and yet I couldn't escape the western idealists. They were everywhere, always looking for different worlds to conquer. I was young then and didn't understand what I do now, but they were looking for ways to make themselves seem mightier than they are. The sad thing is they are still looking now a days," he said, the fire lighting the side of his face that had less scaring.

He was a wise man, his face showed that he had been through a lot and that his thoughts and feelings were so complex and haunting that is was almost frightening to want to learn more. But there was a gentleness, a sorrow, in his eyes. It was a want to talk to people, to tell his own story and the things he knew, the sad things that haunted him. Even with his disfigurement Meg could make out the handsome features that his face should have had. His eyes were bright and engaging. His cheek bone high and strong. His manner was filled with wisdom and a great tone for the story.

"It sounds like it would have been an exciting time," Meg said finally.

"It was, for a while," he answered, "but looks can always be deceiving."

"As all things are," Meg smiled.

"Yes, so true," he chuckled, "at the time, I was very much interested in wealth and making a name for myself. I believed if I could not be known for my face then I would be known by deeds. I had been befriend for my talents, by a man travelling through India with a guide of local men. They had enlisted me to go hunting with them. Little did I know the English man was very much a coward. They hunted big game, as they called it, I wasn't sure what they had met. It wasn't until we were deep into the jungle that I understood what was happening. The men of the land had adapted to the traditions of the English. They all carried guns, which I found odd. I'd never touched anything like it and preferred the traditional techniques that I had learned and that had been a part of my rise in popularity."

"Traditional techniques?" Meg asked becoming confused, the only traditions of the hunt that she had know were what she had heard and guns were the only way she knew of.

"Yes, arrows and ropes, things made of the earth," he answered, "nothing so mechanical as the machines developed simply for killing. I had always through of it as a matter of protection not killing."

"I see," Meg said as her heart dropped, she could tell that the story was going to be darker than she had once anticipated.

Erik watched her for a moment, noticing her uneasiness but soon decided it would be beneficial to continue, "we had spent days in the jungle," he said, "the English were very troubled and tied of the bugs by this time. They had not seen any of the creatures they had hoped for and hadn't anticipated the dreadful conditions that the jungle provided, however, they persisted. The next morning we packed up camp again and set out once more into thicker jungle than we had seen. It was at this time that I was moved to lead our group with the local men as I was one of the more youthful on the expedition. It was a difficult time but we moved on. It wasn't until late in the day they we decided to stop once again and set up camp. We came to a place where the grass had grown high but the trees were sparse and it was decided that near the edge of the clearing would be a place to camp for the night. Little did we know, in crossing the grass that what we would come on," he said.

"Oh goodness," Meg gasped, "when did you know?"

"Two of us found out the hard way," he said with a sigh, "myself and a young man of a local tribe led the group through the grass. We didn't see the movement of orange through the setting sun and the grass until it was to late. My companion was dealt the greatest blow from the beast. The other men back off and left us to deal with the animal on our own."

"Oh my," Meg whispered.

"I can't remember much of the battle," Erik said as he turned and looked at the bright orange flashes of the fire, "my companion lay, near death, at my feet and I all had to defend myself was a rope and my knowledge of how to use it."

"Is that how you came to look like this?" Meg gasped.

"No," Erik said, "I felt no pain when gaining these scared, I was born with them."

Meg looked sadly on the man, who's face showed so much promise and handsome features, "were you hurt in the confrontation?" she asked finally.

"It was trying, and there were injuries but I was nothing that wouldn't past," he said, "my challenge was really the speed of my thoughts. The animal ran on instinct and precision. It did only what it knew how to do, and that was to be the hunter and not the hunted. I had to rely on my knowledge, all the while the men with guns stood and watched. I was fighting for my life. I did not know that the beast was facing the same fate. I did manage to subdue the beast. My lasso worked with me and I was able to tie the beast into submission. Once the battle had ended I stood triumphantly with my prey. The beast still moved against the binds of rope but it was powerless to do anything more. The Englishman was the last to join me in the clearing but when he did his pride and his excitement ran higher than anyone. He towered over the trembling beast, his eyes burning, his gun in his hand and he shot it."

Meg gasped, "it was powerless, how could he?"

Erik shook his head, "I was just as astonished then as I am today. The men of the land cursed him for his deed. They spoke of curses and trials and angry gods. I didn't hear most of it. The great beast lay, in my ropes, at my feet dead by a bullet. I had no intention on killing it, and maybe I was to naive at the time but I didn't think anyone was going to be killing anything, let alone in that way. I couldn't stop myself from feeling anger and hatred for every man in the group, including myself. I fled then, to the edge of the jungle where the clearing ended. It was like a wall before me, the jungle was so think and there, near to the grass was a hollow rock and a dark passage into the ground. Tears wet my face as I saw why we had all been so harshly attached. A tiny ball of fur, white as the snow squeaked from the opening of the burrow."

"Oh my goodness," Meg said as tears filled her eyes.

"I felt like I should have been the one to die," Erik said as he watched Meg dry her eyes, "I had been all apart of it and I knew I couldn't face the group again, nor could I take the baby back into the camp to be killed. I spent the night with the tiny ball of fir. It cried most of the night and so did I. In the morning it poured rain and it rained everyday that I made my way through the jungle alone. It was my punishment for angering the gods of the land and yet I felt an obligation to this small animal. I would never let anything happen to it as I had let the evil fall on its mother."

"That is so kind of you," Meg said as she stepped forward and knelt before him, "there is so much that you have known, and so much hurt and pain you have suffered. I feel guilty for the bad people in the world and yet they are the ones who live in the open. Its not fair."

"They aren't all bad," Erik said as he reached out to her, "there are a few good people in the world. Some still remain as pure and un touched as you. It saddens me to know that you have been through so much sorrow in this small world of the opera. I apologies for the bad things that I have done in the past. Some of my actions toward this place were unacceptable. They will not happen again," he said looking deep into her eyes.

"You cannot stop the onset of evil," Meg sighed, "if you are forced to defend yourself, and the ones you love then you have to, no matter what, or we are all to parish like a mother protecting her young," she said, "I blame you for nothing."

"Its funny," Erik said his mind deep in thought, "even with the forgiveness I have always longed for, that which I see in your eyes, I am still plagued with guilt for the things that I have done. Perhaps the gods are still haunting me to this day."

"If that can be true to you, then it is true for me as well," Meg said as she stood from the floor, "I feel as though we have all angered the gods again."

"Only time will tell if we have," Erik said as he too stood, "until then we have work to do. Come," he said and led her by the hand to another part of his home.


	19. Return to the Light

_**Chapter 19: Return to the Light.**_

It was difficult to judge how long things went on when Meg was with the Phantom. He played to, his music that moved her and empowered her. She never felt tired, nor did she wish to stop when he told her to, but she listened well, as a student should. She danced long into the night before Erik told her to stop, and though she protested, she did as she was told and followed where he led her. Out of his house through another passage that brought her back to the public areas of the Opera Populair. He never removed himself from the shadows but Meg stepped out as if waking from a dream. Everything seemed so different and cold to her now. It was hard to believe that she had spent most of her life in this place.

Once she found herself back in the immense openness of the theatre she began to feel the fatigue set in. Her body began to ache in ways she had never felt before. Her feet were warn and bleeding in her shoes. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for a ballerina but it was a bit alarming to see. She hadn't felt like she had worked herself that hard but it was clear she had. She silently slipped off to her small room and slept a restful and deep sleep.

Morning came before long and the opera began to feel busy again. Light filled the foyer, noise from the street outside resonated inside the theatre. The ballerinas were up and busy again. Back to the practice hall they had hurried and Madame Giry worked them harder and harder every day. Christine found herself with them and falling into the ranks once more. She had forgotten the feeling of fatigue that almost immediately hit a person after they had been working muscles that hadn't been working in a long time. But, quickly, she remembered the steps and began to move more gracefully than she had in years. She began to feel like she was beautiful again and the feeling radiated through her body and her physical appearance almost seemed to change. Her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes shown brightly. Her body was still small and fragile but not as toned as it once was but it felt like her youth was coming back to her. She breathed in deeply as she danced and felt the movements she hadn't felt in a long time. A great joy came over her, she couldn't help but smile to herself. It was wonderful to see the ballerinas and to be a part of it once again. But the practice dragged on and she could feel her muscles burning. She could tell that it would take a lot of work.

By about mid morning, looking tired and groggy, Meg finally joined the ballerinas in the dance hall. Many of them scowled at her and talked behind her back but she ignored them. They had no idea what she was going through and how difficult their chatter was making thing for her mentally. She tried her hardest to look like the presence of their gossip didn't bother her but really she was starting to notice it more and more. The more she heard the angrier and the more doubtful she became. In her mind terrible things had begun to pop up, like nightmare but she saw them when she was awake and away from Erik. She sighed heavily to herself and moved off to practice in her own way and at her own pace.

"Why should she get special treatment?" one ballerina asked and Meg heard her.

"Because she's the mistresses daughter," another giggled.

"Because she's the star of the Phantom's Opera," yet another had mockingly stated.

"Because she's better than you and wiser than you and more experienced than you!" Madame Giry shouted at the younger girls as she pointed each one of them out, "if you ever wish to be as good and as graceful as Meg then you must work hard, till your feet bleed and you can hardly stand. Then you must work harder and harder till you can hardly face the pain and when you reach that point you'll work some more till it becomes easy. That is how Meg has gotten as far as she has. Not by day dreaming and talking about others behind their backs. You'll be lucky to make it into the chorus by the time you are thirty!" she shouted and pounded her cane on the ground, "just remember you haven't yet gained the parts, and the Opera Populair will be holding open auditions for anyone in Paris, which means you can all be replaced by outsiders. You are not safe yet. So I suggest you stop this pettiness and practice"

With this outburst from their teacher the girls fell into new concentration and Meg was left alone. She didn't enjoy hearing the scolding from her mother to the other girls, she remembered what it was like when she was at that stage and this would only heighten their anger and resentment towards her but it would make them grow as artist.

It is sad to say that the ballerinas that had once befriended Meg had begun to despise her. She had been missing so much time with them and she had become so closed off to everyone that they couldn't help but gossip. They were jealous of the way she was being treated and believed it was only because she had been chosen as the Phantom's favourite. Also they were so very angry to see how much she improved when she hadn't even been to practice with them. She was more graceful and beautiful with every move she made. Her eyes were dreamy but her face was always fills with a great sorrow. They were sure that the fame and the admiration of the Phantom was getting to her. It was this that angered them the most and it caused the rumours and the gossip to start. They painted terribly ugly pictures of Meg to one another. Christine listening in on all of the gossip, it was just what she wanted to hear. They were unhappy with her new admirer and how everything was being handed to her and yet they wanted so much to have the talent that she had so that they too could someday have the fame.

"You know, they are saying the Phantom wrote the musical for her don't you," Misha, an older ballerina whispered to Christine as they practice, "rumour has it that after you left Meg went looking for the Phantom and seduced him. He now writes only for her."

"no, that can't be true," Christine said as she continued to practice.

"Oh yes," Another ballerina, Belinda, whispered, "why do you think Meg has never left the theatre. Because she doesn't need to look for a suitor outside of the theatre she wants the composer himself."

"Just you wait, the more time she spends down in the depth of the earth with him the uglier she's going to look," Misha giggled, "she's already stating to look as white as a corpse."

"Before you know it there she will be a Phantomess herself," Belinda giggled, "the great opera witch!"

"Or she'll have to hide what he's done to her," Misha laughed as she made a motion to look like she was growing fat with pregnancy.

Christine was hurt for her old friend, at hearing how some of the younger ballerinas were speaking about her. She knew very well that it was normally the way a ballerina fell out of the dance was because of the accidents of her actions. But never had she ever known Meg to be like that.

"Look at how she moves," Belinda said as she pointed across the room to where Meg was practising, "I know why she has become so flexible," she whispered and the two girls began to giggle again.

"You two," Madame Giry yelled as she heard the giggling persist, "what is so funny. Do you wish to be in this drama or not?"

"We do," the girls answered.

"They shut up and practice, you'll end up no where but the kitchen cleaning if you do not begin to work."

"Yes Madame," they said and slumped back.

"As for you, Christine," Madame Giry whispered into her ear, "it would be wise for you to not judge what the Phantom has in store here. It could be a very dangerous time once again. Don't fall into the wrong circles, you know what can happen."

"Yes, Madame," Christine whispered, fear rising in her voice.

"Don't be blinded by the light, my dear, there is much to much corruption to be found in it," Madame Giry said and walked off to scold some other gossiping ballerinas.

Christine's eyes fell on Meg as Madame Giry walked away. Meg had been watching them and listening. Christine noticed the hurt in Meg's face before she turned away and went back to her practising. She could still however make out a tear that rolled off the young woman's pail cheek. Christine didn't listen to another word from any of the jealous ballerinas.


	20. Deception Lurking

_**Chapter 20: Deception Lurking.**_

Christine's first day back with the Opera Populair had been a trying one. She ached from head to toe from the extensive practice she had been thrown into. She had remembered much of her way around the floor and much of the choreography hadn't yet changed for the new show, but it was still very difficult. She knew that it would only get harder as she worked her body back into shape. How ever would she be able to find time to work on her singing. Auditions were coming up very quickly for all parts of the show and she was starting to feel desperate, even after her first day. She had thought that for sure the Phantom would have come to her, but after hearing what the ballerina's had to say about Meg and the Phantom, she had began to doubt if he would even care to see her again. She knew that the only way for her to regain her wealth and her image was if the Phantom was to coach her again. It was not yet known to the public that Christine Daae, the Phantom's Christine, had returned. She understood why, she had become plain and hadn't sung. Her voice was in jeopardy and her dance wasn't in any condition to bring her into for the for front of the theatrical scene. And yet her need for revenge, her want to show the De Chagny's that she was worth something was fuelling her urge to cause controversy, but she felt terrible to want to bring any harm to her old friend. If only she could put her name out there, or convince the Phantom to help her.

She stared dreamily out the window of the practice hall. She had remained there, once practice had ended, to continue her practising or to try and remember some of the things that the Phantom had once taught her. So many things had already started to come back to her but she had yet to open her mouth to sing. She hummed to herself at the windowsill, it wasn't a beautiful sound by any means but a plain, untrained sound. She could hear it herself, it was nothing like she once had been. It was sad to know that she had lost so much, and gained so little. Something that was so a part of who she was, in the beginning, had warn away with her youth and her dreams.

"Maybe I was never meant to sing," She sighed to herself.

"I think you were," She heard a voice from beside her.

She spun around quickly to see Meg, looking sad and tired, only feet away from her.

"I'm sorry if I am bothering you, do you mind if I practice?" Meg asked as she lowered her eyes to the floor.

"I don't mind at all," Christine smile happy to finally have the chance to talk to her friend, "why would I mind Meg, you were always the better dancer and your dance has changed so much since I knew it. Please, I would love to watch you dance."

"You don't have to say those things to me," Meg said as she slipped off her ballet slippers.

"But they are true," Christine answered, "I don't believe anything that the ballerinas say, if that is what you are worried about," she smiled.

"People say a lot of things, most of the time they are untrue because they want to see the world through their eyes only. Everyone has a different experience of reality and even if I wanted to change people's minds about me I wouldn't be able to," Meg said sadly as she moved across the floor.

"My idea of you has never changed Meg," Christine smiled, "you've always been my friend and I hope that we can still be."

"I hope so too," Meg whispered, "but I don't want to give you any negative publicity as I am getting myself."

"I am not worried about that," Christine said as she too began to practice. She was no where near as graceful or as fit as Meg but it was nice to have company to try and get her back into the swing of the Opera Populair, "I've got enough negative publicity for just coming back here."

"That is true," Meg sighed, "but the question on everyone's mind is why did you come back here?"

"I had no where else to go," Christine said as she stopped and looked at her friend, "you have to believe me."

"I do," Meg said as she too stopped, "but I can tell there is something else you want," she said a she looked at her friend, "you've changed a lot while out in the open."

"And so have you," Christine said, "but you seem to have everything you ever wanted. Don't you have even the smallest desire to leave this place?"

"No," Meg said as she turned and returned to her dancing.

"Why?" Christine asked, "what is here that keeps you tied to it?"

"My craft, the dance and the things I don't yet know about it. The changes that are happening in the theatre and the music and the drama itself. Its always changing and evolving and I want to be apart of it," Meg said with a smile, "who knows what is next for the ballet, or for the opera. It takes forward thinkers to know those answers and it takes us, the performers, to make them a reality. Why live in a corrupt world of wealth and pride and judgement when you can be here in a world of creation?"

"Why not go out and see how the rest of the world lives, before you judge it with clouded eyes. Its not as bad as it looks from these windows," Christine answered, "see the city, the country, the world outside these walls. Know what money can buy you and see how people outside the arts act."

"And have my talents and youth stolen by some man who wants me only as a prize to show to the world. You, of all people, should know what it is like, you are the one who has come back to this place after being swept away from it and yet the greed and the want for it all is still with you. I'll not be sold by the glitter, I don't want to see the world through the rich mans eyes," Meg said, "you can have it."

"Well what more are you but a prize to be shown if you are the star of a new musical drama?" Christine asked, "doesn't it just fuel the fire and the rumours, you are the new centre of the Phantom scandal. He's got you under his spell."

"There is no spell, I go of my own will and no one else's. I was given a choice to accept of reject the proposition of the Opera Ghost and I accepted it," Meg said as anger grew in her voice, "let the people think what they want to think but I know the truth and I am happy with my decision. I am just not happy to see the corruption and the controversy starting so early and it will only grow as more and more people come to this place."

"Well you should say something about it," Christine said not paying attention to the passion in Meg's voice.

"And just cause more rumours and speculation?" Meg asked, "no, I will do what I have been asked to do and I will do it in silence. Once I step on that stage to dance this roll that is when I will worry about what judgement will be pasted."

"There will be no negative judgement from the audience, they will love you," Christine smiled, "you've got the magic."

"There is no magic, its only perseverance and practice," Meg said.

"And good teachers," Christine said, "the Ghost is teaching you isn't he."

"There are no such thing as Ghosts," Meg said.

"Alright, then the Phantom of the Opera, the man that lurks and haunts this place. The man with fair in his eyes and lust in his heart. You speak of corruption, he's as corrupt as they come," Christine said as she came closer to Meg.

"Think what you like," she answered trying to keep her anger under control, "besides what does it matter to you? You chose to come back here and to deal with all this. You say you had no other choice but really if it was such a terrible time for you then you could have found some other way to live. There has to be another reason that you returned here, why?

"Because," Christine said as she lowered her eyes to the floor, "I need his help, I am willing to pay."

"How can you pay if you have nothing to your name?" Meg asked.

"I'd fine some way to pay, I just need to sing again," Christine said, "please help me find him."

"He'll find you if he wants to find you. I am not going to be the gate way to the other realms," Meg said as she shook her head.

"You tall of realms but no ghosts what is this dream you live in?" Christine laughed sarcastically.

"You have no idea what is lying in this place, no idea of the things I've seen," Meg hissed letting her anger slip.

"Ah ha, so you have seen him, couldn't you mention me to him?" Christine asked her voice excited.

"Christine, I'll not start something that was put to rest years ago," Meg said as she stopped and looked deep into her friends eyes, "you'd be wise not to push anything anymore."

"Yes Madame Giry," Christine said anger growing in her own voice.

"Don't go looking for the Phantom, he'll find you if he wants you," Meg said as she turned on her toes, picked up her ballet slippers.

"How could he not," Christine said, "he told me he's always love me."

"Well if that is the case then I am sure that you will be seeing him very soon," Meg said.

"I'm sure I will," Christine shouted and turned back to the window, "and you're going to make sure of that."

"He already knows you're here," Meg said from the doorway, "and he's probably just heard every word you just said," she added and turned out of the practice room.

Christine spun fearfully around glancing all around her. She looked to every dark shadow, every corner and alcove. She suddenly felt like millions of eyes were on her once more. It was a feeling that had never really left her, almost as if the building itself was a live and watching. She shivered with discomfort and rushed out of the practice room.


	21. The Phantom's Rage

_**Chapter 21: The Phantom's Rage.**_

Meg was very hurt to hear some of the things that people were saying about her. Especially when they were coming from people that once were her friends. The big shocker came from Christine, all of the terrible feelings and thoughts about her returning, were actually coming true or so it seemed for Meg. She became nervous and anxious around everyone now. Nothing felt right anymore. Her fears for the destruction of the theatre burned deep down in the recesses of her heart, she didn't understand what her paranoia was about but it was there and growing.

With a very heavy heart Meg shut herself away for the remainder of the day. She couldn't bare to see anyone else. She knew that auditions for the chorus would be starting in a day and she hoped that it would bring some relief to the ill feeling people were having toward her. The fight would be on now for everyone to be better than the last and once all casting was finished they would have to work together for the common goal. She wouldn't have to deal with the jealousy of the other ballerinas but with the competition of the cast members. It would be a long and difficult journey but she didn't have a choice now. She had given the Phantom her word and she now had to go through with the plan.

Christine was also quite hurt and afraid of what Meg had said. So many things can be said when in rage but so much truth also had come out. But Christine was the unfortunate one. She didn't have the freedom of the seniority anymore that Meg now had. She was bound by the day time practice regiment and the evening restrictions on the theatre. Thankfully Meg's room was part of the ballet dormitories and Christine was able to watch for any movement from Meg, after she had escaped to the confines of her solitude. But Christine knew that Meg would have to emerge from her room to meet the Phantom. It was clear to everyone, or at least by rumour, that Meg had been meeting the Phantom. She had to believe what ever she heard now or she would get nothing at all from Meg. Her suspicions were correct. It was only a matter of being patient and waiting to see what happened.

It wasn't until much later, when all the lights in the theatre had gone out, that Meg left the silence of the ballet dormitory. She moved quickly and silently, wrapped in her rose coloured blanket. Christine followed her at a distant. Meg moved fast through the theatre and into the areas that, if Christine was caught, she would be in great trouble and even risk being kicked out of the ballet school, but it was a risk that Christine was willing to take.

Meg found her way easily to the spiral column of stairs and without hesitation moved down them. The darkness was thick but Meg had become accustom to the lack of light and even comfortable in the darkness. She was gaining her footing and becoming familiar with the steps it took to descend into the darkness. She related it all to the dance and found that this brought her more comfort when she was faced with the darkness that lingered below.

Christine stumbled along as quietly as she could, trying to keep Meg in her sight. The darkness seemed thicker than she had ever seen. She breathed deeply, panic setting in, as she followed Meg downward. She remembered a time when she had been dragged into the darkness and, even now, three years later, the fear was still great and unnerving, but she forced herself onward. It was all that she could do to regain what she had, had before Raoul had taken her for granted. Her desperation was far greater than her fear.

As Meg travelled downward she could feel the cold drawing closer to her. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and continued on. Soon the fog began to form around her. It was thick and black now, but she knew that soon she would meet Erik. Thicker and thicker the fog grew and the slower she began to move. The steps were uneven now and treacherous to manoeuver, but Erik didn't come. Meg moved slower and slower as the darkness grew blacker and the air grew thinner. She ran her hand over the rough wall, feeling her way down the stairs.

Christine had fallen behind now. The fog had caught her off guard. She almost felt like the darkness was moving in to choke her. She was starting to feel claustrophobic in the darkness and didn't see just how big the space was. Panic filled her entire being. She tripped over steps, scratching her hands and yet she continued to move downward, after Meg. She had now begun to worry that they were both going to be lost in the darkness. She was nearly ready to call out to Meg when red eyes appeared so close to her she fell backward. Fear enveloped her. The scream couldn't make its way out of her throat. She only stared.

"How dare you come down here," the Phantom's voice boomed in the stone column, "you are no longer welcome."

Meg spun around hearing it. It was far above her, she looked up into the darkness but could see nothing of the voice that was so angry. She did the only thing she could think to do, she ran upward toward the voice to try and stop any evil that would be a complete regret later.

"Insolent girl," the Phantom yelled as he grabbed Christine by the arms and pulled her upright, "why have you come here?" he questioned, "why?"

"Oh angel, I need you," Christine forced the words, "please, I've come back to you," she said tears swelling in her eyes.

"Do you think me the fool?" Erik hissed into her face, "do you?" he yelled as he shook her, "after all that I have been through, all the things that I had to suppress. The evil that you made me do? Did you think it would all be as it was? Well?"

"No," she whispered, "but I was wrong to leave you."

"Lies," he yelled as he watched the fear grow in her eyes, "you lie to my face, you can't even stand to look at me!" he said as he ripped off his mask.

Christine had remembered the face, the sick, horrible face. She had tried so many times to put it out of her mind and here it was again so close she could feel the warmth of his breath. She couldn't take this and turned her face away, tears streaming down her face.

"Get out now!" he yelled.

"But please," Christine begged as he let her go, "please help me to be pleasing to you again. I need your guidance and your genius," she said as she fell to her knees begging.

"Never!" he yelled, "get out now before you meet the same fate as those who have come this fare before you!" he said as he pulled a lasso around her shoulders.

Christine screamed with panic with the feeling of the rope tightening around her. The scream was blood curdling and echoed up and down the cylindrical column.

Shivers ran up Meg's back as she heard the scream. Her heart sank when she was Erik and Christine coming into view, the rope around her now.

"And you," Erik hissed as he suddenly turned away from Christine and rushed toward Meg.

Christine had fallen back to the floor and was frantically removing the lasso from around her upper body.

Fire was raging in his eyes as he grabbed Meg and through the rose blanket away from her, "how dare you disobey me," he yelled, "traitor!"

"But I haven't," Meg cried out her face white with fear as he moved closer and closer to her. She back herself into the wall and was trapped by him now.

"You have!" The Phantom yelled, "don't deny it, you let her follow you!"

"But I didn't," Meg sobbed, "I would never. I didn't know," her tone pleaded for him to believe her.

"Both of you need to be punished for your disobedience," he yelled.

"Christine run!" Meg yelled as she stared bravely into the Phantom's unmasked face, "get out now!" she yelled as she quickly glanced toward Christine who was shaking with fear on the stairs.

"Both of you get out," Erik hissed as he through Meg down beside Christine, "Go now, before I change my mind!" he yelled at them.

"Come on!" Meg yelled as she struggled to stand and grabbed onto Christine's hand. They ran as fast as they could upward and out of the darkness. Away from the madness that brewed in the betrayed mind of the Phantom of the Opera.


	22. Bitter Truth

_**Chapter 22: Bitter Truth.**_

Meg dragged Christine up through the darkness, her feet more sure of the way than she had every been. Christine struggled behind her but she wouldn't let her go. Her heart beet so fast from the fear but the tears flowed freely down her face. It had been bad enough to have everyone she lived with angry or jealous of her but now the Phantom himself was displeased. She felt betrayed by him but knew that it was, to some degree, her fault. Christine had followed her, she should have been more careful.

Christine could see the anger and the pain in Meg's face. Her eyes were filled with tears but her cheeks were flushed and her features very hard and disapproving. Christine was afraid of what she was seeing. More of the rumours about Meg were coming true every minute. She, at that very moment, reminded Christine of the danger and the anger that they had both been witness to in the Phantom. Could it really be that Meg was becoming more and more like her teacher, in talent and in action? And what else had he been teaching her. Her hands were hot and tight around Christine's wrist, she could feel her circulation to her hand cutting off. It was painful and scary all at the same time and Christine was not at all sure of her feet. She stumbled and tripped but Meg moved on faster than before.

Upward, further and further they ran. Out of the darkness of the staircase and up into the acting levels of the theatre. Meg never released Christine from her grip and only dragged her onward. They drew closer and closer to the ballet dormitory before Christine dared to speak.

"Let me go, we're well away from him now," Christine whined.

"He is everywhere, all the time, you know that," Meg hissed and kept moving.

"But I can hardly run anymore," Christine cried out, "let go of me!"

Meg pushed her against one of the dormitory doors before she let her go, "you stay where you are told to stay," she hissed into Christine's face in a hash whisper. Tears were still soaking her face but the rage was growing in her eyes, "or I'll be forced to report your actions and you'll be back out on the streets. Do you understand?" she asked forcefully.

"Yes," Christine said like a disobedient child.

"I don't think you understand how sever this is Miss. Daae," Meg pushed her positions and seniority on the young woman who was of lower rank than she was, "you have no right to this place. You are back at level one and will not rise from there unless you follow the rules. Just because you were my friend once, doesn't mean I am going to treat you any differently now then I would the other ballerinas. This is a very dangerous place Mademoiselle and you would be wise to remember the things that were so terrible and vivid three years ago. What you did tonight was enough to throw you out and never let you back in. And who know how much you have jeopardised us all now. Did you even think of the consequences to your actions. What if you have truly angered the Phantom to irreproachable ends? He could pull the show from production or worse cause things to happen as they did. Is that what you want? To cause trouble and destroy what people are trying to save? Smarten up for, God sakes, and do as you are told!" she said with great force.

Meg's words stung as Christine listened. The anger and betrayal in Meg's eyes hurt almost as badly, "I'm sorry," Christine whispered as tears filled her eyes.

"Get to your room and do not leave it till morning," Meg said angrily and walked away.

Christine slunk into her dormitory and fell into her bed. When she closed her eyes all she could see was the red, hideous glow of the Phantom's eyes and the terrible mass that was his face. They were eyes that had haunted her nights for many months and now, once again, they had returned. The anger in his voice rang in her ears. A voice that she still heard in her dreams but a nicer voice than the one filled with anger that now screamed at her. She had always longed to hear that voice again. She had never imagined it would be like this. And now another voice followed it, a voice that she had been so familiar with and had never heard so angry. Meg had never raised her voice over a whisper and Christine had never seen her angry in her life. It was a terribly frightening change for the young girl but there was a desperation in the echo that Christine heard in her head. Meg's voice, though angry, was pleading. Her words were like knives fighting a great battle. This battle was one against the corruption of time, one that was aimed at saving her beloved home. Christine remembered that Meg had never seen the outside world as she had. Meg was born in the theatre and raised within it after her father had died before she was born. Yes she had travelled out of the theatre with her mother but never for long times and it was always clear to Christine that Meg never wanted to leave. Now there fear was in her eyes, there fear of losing her home. Meg was afraid, more than she was angry, and this is what hurt Christine so deeply. She let bitter tears roll down her face, "I am so sorry Meg," she cried into her pillow, "I am a terrible, selfish person."

A sinking, tragic feeling came over her. She had screwed up all of her changed of reclaiming her glory days. It was she, who was the fool, to think that this would be given back to her. She would have to learn to settle for the life she had now, falling into the crowd and only having as much as her craft could give her. She wasn't a young beauty anymore, though she wasn't old either, but she wasn't what she wanted to be. She had lost much and now she was losing more, including her one true friend.

She sunk down, the eyes still burning in her mind, and she wept bitterly. She really was a no body now after only three years. Her days in the sun were gone. She had waited to long in hopes of a better life that had blinded her with lust and youth, three long years ago. She was left in the past of the Opera Populair.


	23. Finding the Path

_**Chapter 23: Finding the Path.**_

It was unclear where she was going but Meg walked on through the theatre as if she was lost within it. She felt like she was. Nothing in the theatre felt comfortable or familiar anymore. Halls she had always travelled seemed foreign and far away. Places that once were filled with timeless melodies were deafening by the silence and the darkness. Lush colours gave way to the eery darkness and forbidding gloom. It was a terrible place to find oneself but was it really her she was feeling. Something inside her was aching. She had never been so mad or so violent in her life. She was losing who she really was and becoming something she wasn't or so she felt. It was the darkest moment Meg had every had in all of her life. She felt as through her heart was broken and her soul had escaped her. She was nothing but the ghost of the theatre now.

She walked on feeling the walls and the drapes and the doors as she went along. She was trying to feel, see or hear something to trigger the memories of happiness, but she only found it to be and empty and forbidding place. Her heart was heavy and sinking within her. But horrible ideas of a darker and even less friendly world plague her mind. It was just outside of the theatre. Would they miss her if she left? Would she be able to survive? How could she if she couldn't even survive a place she loved so dearly as the Opera Populair. Would anyone even notice if she did as so many people were telling her to do, to go out into the open and experience the real world? She wondered as she passed through the great theatre's foyer and right up to the great entrance into the building. All it would take would be a few steps to walk out into the world and be rid of everything that was here, and in her life now. She stopped and paused, placing her hand on the gilded gold handle of one of the large doors. Her body shook all over as bitter tears rolled down her cheeks.

Erik watched her from the shadows of the foyer. In his rage he had followed the two women and listened into their fear. He had heard every word that was exchanged between the two ballerinas. And had seen the anger and the fear in Meg's poor, young face. It was a terrible, heart wrenching fear that covered her and a darkness that he knew too well. What had he done to her and she to him?

His heart seemed to stop beating as he watched the star of his new drama pause at the door, only inches away from a world without him. Could she really leave him too? Had he scared her so much that she would leave so suddenly and why was he not rushing out to stop her? To comfort her and beg her to stay with him. These questions raced through his mind but his feet would not move from there place on the floor. He couldn't even call out to her. Remorse for his tone and his anger filled him. His heart sank as she leaned into the door. It didn't move under her weight.

Meg sighed deeply and sobbed out loud, she had been able to fight her thoughts and had decided it would be best to leave. She leaned against the door but her prayers were answered, they were locked. Deep within her there was a relief that rose. She made up her mind to leave but she never really wanted to. She didn't know what she would do if the doors really would have opened. Would she have been able to push it open and step out into the world. She wouldn't have to know now. The moment had passed and her desperate prayers, that the doors would not move, were answered. There were other ways out of the theatre but at that moment she knew it was not the right thing to do. She moved silently away from the door, shivering and moving up the stairs of the great foyer.

She walked on slowly and dreamily. Her tears had washed away her anger toward Christine. She knew that the girl was desperate now to regain her life that she was so comfortable in. She too was feeling a desperateness toward the theatre and the drama now. She knew that it was nearly a life or death situation to save the theatre because she believed that she would die without her home and without him. It is true that people will to anything to stop change, even initiated change itself. But a great sadness for Christine had now taken over her. She knew that someday her old friend would realise what life was really about and that she would learn to be happy in her new life but she was still torn to see her unhappy and desperate. She also felt a great sense of quilt growing within her. Her lack of caution was what led to this and really she should have expected something like this to happen. She had jeopardised the Phantom and his secrets.

Holding tightly onto herself she walked on, past box five without even glancing at it and further on her journey up through the theatre.

Erik followed her slowly, listening to her cry as they went. She shivered with cold and sadness. In his arms he carried the rose coloured blanket that he had so violently ripped away from her. It was a piece that was at one time intended for Christine but since then he had given it over to Meg. It was one of the only items he had left from his youth and child hood. The blanket had belonged to his birth mother and was the one thing she had given him out of love. Now he had moved it on to someone he felt dearly for and had betrayed her with his anger and his overreaction. He followed silently not wanting to disturb her but yearning to apologies and to wipe away her fear.

The theatre was as quiet as a tomb, at this late hour. No one was found in any levels of the theatre, not even the ancient sounds of superstitions and anxiety. She moved slowly and silently all the way to the roof and out into the open air of the summer night. The stars were bright in the sky, and the moon reigned high over the heavens. Down in the street the lamps were still lit and the night owls were still prowling the street. She walked close to the edge of the roof and looked out at the city.

"Why do you feel you must follow me?" she asked as she turned around and looked into the shadows of the roof top.

"How did you know I was there?" Erik asked as she stepped out shyly before her. His mask has been replaced.

"I have gotten used to feeling you close to me," she said as she turned and looked back to the city.

Erik walked slowly over to her. He watched as she reluctantly let the cold get the better of her and she shivered as a breeze blew through her hair. He placed the blanket gently around her shoulders again awed by how much she had changed in the few weeks that he had come to really know her and how much she seemed tuned into everything about him. It was like she was apart of him somehow, like his heart and hers were one.

She spun suddenly and reached out to take his mask away from him. He stepped back out of her each and almost in defence of himself.

"My fear of you is not from your face," she said as bitterness and anger rose in her quiet voice, "I would have thought that was already clear in the trust I have shown you, but clearly you cannot trust me." she said as she turned away from him not willing to let him see her cry.

"Trust is hard to come by," he said softly.

"Not if you are faced with someone willing to give it," Meg said as she turned back to look at him, tears rolling down her cheeks, "and I can feel that you know it. Or am I just blinded by something else, something I clearly can't understand. What spell have you cast on me?"

"No spells," Erik said as she backed further away from her now. His heart ached to hear her speak such words. They were words that were racing through his own mind, accusations he felt he needed to put to her but she was far ahead of him in the argument. He felt helpless now.

"Take off you mask," She ordered him, looking angry and hurt and helpless all at once, "let me look at you and face you as I am facing you now. I have nothing to hid behind, you shouldn't have that luxury either, at least not now. We have come to far and to close to each other to allow for these walls to exist. Give me your mask," she said and stepped closer to him holding out her hand.

Erik didn't know what he was doing as he pulled the mask from his face and handed it to the girl. He felt more vulnerable now than he had ever felt and yet he knew he could do nothing. His strength had escaped him now and he looked at his feet as she held the mask before her.

"I didn't mean for her to follow me, I had no idea she was that selfish to do something as bold as that."

"I know this now," he said as he went to brush a tear from her cheek but she pulled away from him.

"You could have known had you asked me," she said as she turned away and walked toward the other end of the rooftop.

She placed the blanket and on the edge of the roof and the mask on top of it and turned back to face Erik. She shivered with cold and he shivered with exposure but they were as open to each other as they had ever been.

"What is happening here?" he asked her as he finally looked up and their eyes met.

Meg stepped closer to him, her eyes never leaving his as she walked up. She was so close now, there was barely room between them. Her face was red in the moonlight, tear stained and sorrowful. His was bare and open to her sight, the great mass of flesh and scares, redness and imperfection was right before her but her eyes never moved from his. She saw only within him and she stood there before him until he found in her what she had found in him.

Tears still rolled down her face as her blue eyes bore into him. He could feel them and the more she looked the more he felt like she was reading him and her face changed. Tears of anger and sadness now mixed with understanding and passion.

"You can trust me," she whispered as she reached up and touched his face, "I've let my guard down to you and I've presented all that I am, nothing more and nothing less."

Her hands were freezing as they touched his cheeks but he felt a great warmth with the touch. He leaned in closer to her, looking deeper into her eyes and that was where their souls met.

"I do trust you," he whispered back, "I am sorry."

"I am to," Meg said a received smile crossing her face, "for everything and anything that may happen. I am sorry," she leaned in, and, standing on the tips of her toes as dancers do, she kissed him.

The kiss was like a new life had been breathed into him. He felt like all ill feelings toward him, that he had ever felt in his life, were wiped away. This woman had made contact with him like no other human being had ever. He was filled with a passion and could feel it within her as well. He wrapped his arms around her there on the roof and they shared a life changing moment.

When the kiss had ended, Meg pulled away from him only slightly and let herself sink back down onto her heals. He still looked deeply at her but another emotion had filled his eyes. They sparkled like the stars that filled the heavens and she had never seen anything so handsome in her life. They masked the scares of his face and the horrors of his past and gave him a completely different look. Meg would see nothing else but the compassion and happiness in his eyes when he looked at her. His entire body had loosened up, he was not tense or afraid as he had been but comfortable in a way that she could tell he had never been before.

"Perhaps we should get to work," Meg said as she finally let the blush rise in her face and feeling a slight embarrassment for it she turned her face away from his.

He smiled as he recognised the emotion in her, "if that is what you wish Mademoiselle I can only obey," he said as he walked with her to the edge of the roof top where she picked up the mask once again and handed it back to him.

"I ask that you not wear it when I am around, but I understand if you must while within the theatre," she said as he took it from her hands.

"I'll wear it, only when it pleases you," he said with a smile, it was a handsome smile and a comforting smile.

"I'd prefer you never to wear it," she said, "but we both know that you must. Perhaps one day the rest of the world can see you as I do."

"Perhaps," he answered and wrapped the blanket back around her shoulders.

They both turned, then, and looked out at the glittering city of Paris below them. It was a beautiful mid summers night and far below on the street the lamps were still brightly burning. The city of lights before them were like the mirrors of the billons of stars that filled the heaven's.

Erik leaned in to her again and kissed her cheek gently, "I'd like you to return with me to my world. Will you come?" he asked her.

"I will," she smiled and turned away from the stars.

"I am glad," he smiled back at her, "it pleases me to only see one star these nights."

Meg blushed again and followed him silently into the darkness of the theatre.

* * *

_Dear Readers_

_Thank you to everyone who has read the story and given such kind reviews it makes me very happy to hear from you and it has helped me to write this story. I am more into it now than i was in the beginning because so many people have said such nice things about it. I am working hard on it now and there is much more to come soon! please keep leaving me messages andI hope you enjoyed the three new chapters!_

_Angel_


	24. A Whole New World

_**Chapter 24: A Whole New World.**_

Meg awoke the next morning to a brilliant light on her face. It was warm and welcoming but the room was not her own. It was far nicer than the small room she had been given in the ballet dormitory. The bed was much bigger and far more comfortable, with lush purple drapes, of velvet, that hung from the four posters of the bed. The window was lined by a lighter shade of purple and of a light linen fabric. It was a truly wealthy feeling in the room. The bed and the other furniture was made of dark wood and the walls were painted a light creamy colour. She walked to the window, a silk dressing gown hung loosely, on her well toned body. Outside the window she could see the brilliant green of the Phantom's garden. There in the light she could see Erik and his animal. She knew she was feeling something quite different for him now. She was not at all alarmed to find herself in his underground palace, she had followed him there the previous night. But she didn't remember much of what happened. She remembered dancing but after a lengthy practice and more beautiful music than she could ever imagine she had fallen away from herself. She didn't even remember changing her clothing, but it didn't bother her, she felt comfortable and please to know she was safe. She almost felt like she belonged there or like she had always been there with him. It was more of a feeling of home than she had ever felt. It was strange to feel so comfortable in a place she had only visited in darkness. It was even strangers still to see the place in such brightness. The lights that blazed down from the ceiling gave of a radiant light and a warming heat. It almost felt tropical. It was no wonder the animals and the plants did so well in this underground paradise.

At one end of the room a fire had died down to coals in the fire place. A bright pink glass vase sat on a circular table, filled with flower, the likes of which Meg had never seen. Pinks and purples and whites so vibrant and sweet they could never have ever grown in Paris, not even on the nicest of summer days. The room smelled sweet, like citrus and tropical fruits. Beside the vase she found a tray with beautiful china plates and a goblet filled with juice. There were breads and fruits that Meg had never tasted before in her life. Sweet and fresh, filled with flavours only the most wealthy and privileged people would be fortunate enough to eat. She sat at the table, in the comfortable chair that had been placed there for her and watched out the window and birds filled the trees and animals roamed. She ate silently but happily. When she had, had enough she pushed herself away from the table, the chair moving smoothly across the floor and stood once more.

She wandered bravely around the room. In a large dark wardrobe she found her clothing, from the previous night, as well as two incredible fiery costumes and other wonderful gowns fit for a queen. Shoes of all kinds lined the bottom of the wardrobe. Red ballet slippers with long silk ribbon ties caught her eyes. She knew then that the clothing was meant for her. She pulled the two costumes out and layed them on the bed. The first was a traditional ballet dress, all in black with red silk ribbon tied around the waist and alone the straps of the bodice. The remainder of the red ribbon flowed through the skirt. The second was far different from any costume she had ever seen. The bodice was a brighter red than Meg had ever seen. It was embellished with beading and stitching of gold and copper and it sparkled as the light caught it. It tied with red silk ribbon around the neck. The skirt was like fire itself. Golds, reds, oranges and yellows made put the colours of the fire like skirt. The fabrics were shear and were transparent to each other but in a mass looked like it moved like flames. Some of the strips of the fabric were longer than others and reached nearly to the floor. The garment looked so heavy, dense with stitching and beads and anything that glittered, but it was as light as a feather and floated like water. Meg couldn't resist and quickly removed the dressing down and stepped into the dress of fire. She then reached for the red ballet slippers and placed them on her feet, lacing the ribbon nearly to her knees. Everything was perfectly fit to her body.

She looked at herself in a full length mirror that leaned in a corner of the room, admiring the craftsmanship that the garment required. The fabric was so delicate that it would have snagged on nearly anything. It would have taken a steady hand and hours of patient work to complete a costume of such magnitude but it was exactly what _La Diable _was to look like. Staring back at her from the mirror was the character she was trying to become and she knew that she looked like what her mind has always through the character should be. She positioned herself as proudly and as professionally as she could and watched her every movement in the mirror. It was an unbelievable sight to witness and she could hardly believe that it was her.

On a high self in the wardrobe she noticed a glint of sparkle as she stood on her tip toes and twirled before the mirror. It caught her eye and pulled her away from the image in the mirror. Walking slowly and reaching for what was there she pulled down a tray that held a satin pillow. On this pillow layed jewels far beyond anything she had ever seen. Earing and bangles for all over her body. A crown of fire like gem stones and gold web like decorations sat high in the middle of the pillow. It was spun gold, delicate but powerful. She lifted the crown off the pillow and placed it on her head. It matched the costume perfectly as she turned and there in the mirror was no longer Meg Giry but _La Diable _in flesh and blood. Her cheeks blushed and her eyes blinked unbelievingly back at her. There was no doubt about the character anymore.

"I see you have found your gifts," Erik said as he stood in the doorway.

"These as amazing," Meg gasped as she ran to him, "they are to exquisite for me," she said as the fabric followed her every move as if she were dancing in flames themself.

He smiled as he watched her move, everything looked exactly as he had imagined it. She was the beautiful woman to make his drama come alive. She had no idea how perfect she looked to him. Even her most subtle movement looked over exaggerated, "they are perfect for you," he said finally.

"Thank you," she blushed, "I can truly see the character coming alive now."

"I have seen it for months," he smiled as he took her hands and watched as everything she wore sparkled, "you are the mistress of this drama now. It cannot exist without you."

Meg blushed intensely at his comment. She had never felt so important or so loved in all of her life. And yet there was a terrible sense of whether or not she could be good enough to pull it off.

"You will do me proud," Erik said almost sensing the questions in her eyes, "you've already proved that, and whether you believe it or not, I have already seen exactly how it should be."

Meg's eyes sparkled as she looked lovingly at the man before you, "I am happy that it pleases you," she said with a small courtesy.

Erik bowed slightly back to her. She could see the smile in his eyes and then he turned from her and walked toward the door, "You have a very busy day ahead of you, my lady," he said from the doorway, "I hope everything has been comfortable for you and I hope you are well rested."

"I am wonderful," she smiled, "everything was perfect. But how are you, I expect you have quite the day ahead of you as well."

"Yes," Erik said with a sigh

"You should be anxious not so melancholy, is something wrong?" she asked as she touched his face lovingly, "I can see you are bothered by something."

"I've been thinking a lot," he said as he stepped into the room and took a seat at the table with her, "we'll have to wait and see if things work according to plan, or if I have made the right decision for us all."

Meg didn't know what to say as she watched him. He seemed to be filled with sadness and confusion. His mind was being troubled by something but she couldn't quite tell what it was. To many questions filled his eyes. Something just wasn't right but she didn't want to push him.

"I will stand by your decisions," she said without thinking, "every one of them."

"But they may not be what is write for this drama," he said the worry coming through in the tone of his voice.

"You cannot doubt yourself. You must stand by every decision you make as it will be the ones that you must live with. I am sure you are making all of the right choices for you masterwork," she smiled, " and if there is anything I can do," She said as she knelt down beside him.

"You've got enough to do today," he smiled and stood, she stood with him and he caressed her again, "you'll be meeting with the painters today," he said as he watched Meg move toward the wardrobe and pull out her clothing from the previous night, "you'll need to be wearing the costume of_ La Diable_,"he added, "but I think you would be warmer travelling up in one of the finer gowns."

"I am humbled by your gracious offerings, if it will please you, I'll wear them," she smiled and blushed, "but may I ask why I am to wear this costume for the painters?"

"They are going to start the painting of the theatrical posters. You are the star and it is _La Dance du Diable_, you'll have to pose for the grand announcements of my masterwork," he said with a proud smile.

Meg blushed again.

"Is something wrong?" he asked her.

"I never quite realised just how central my character is to this story," she said as she looked once more in the mirror, "this drama is really a ballet after all, isn't it," she asked.

Erik smiled and winked at her, "you best be quick," he said as he returned to the doorway, "there is a large box for the two costumes in the back of the wardrobe, that will make for safe transport of the costumes. Please hurry, those two fools who run my theatre will likely jump to their deaths if they find their star missing this early in the production."

Meg laughed, it was true that Andre and Firmin would likely over react but they would probably see it more for publicity sake.

Erik closed the door behind him and left Meg alone once more in the room. She changed from the fiery costume to a pail ice blue gown that was tucked neatly into the wardrobe. It too was a perfect fit for her and really complimented her figure, she felt very beautiful for the first time in her life and realised just how much thought Erik would have had to put into the clothing he had given to her. She pulled her hair back in a tight braid, much like her mother, and quickly left the room.

Once she had found him again, Erik took her by the hand and lead her back out of the house, through another passage that came out in box five. She carried with her the costume and the ballet slippers and the folded rose blanket. They arrived in the still theatre. The house lights were on but the orchestra had yet to arrive. Erik took a seat in the large, velvet upholstered chair and looked up at Meg.

"Enjoy the quiet while you still can," she smiled and walked to the door, "it can't last for much longer," she sighed.

"Oh you have no idea," Erik sighed but smiled all the same, "today is going to be a very interesting day."


	25. Notes Part Two

_**Chapter 25: Notes Part Two.**_

It was still and quiet within the theatre but as soon as Meg had left the safety of the performance space she was greeted with the hustle and bustle of a full public area. Dancers, singers and stragglers had all gather in the great golden foyer, awaiting a time where they might gain a glimpse of the Phantom of the Opera. It was loud and bright, in the space. There was hardly room now to walk but she moved on quickly to where she knew she would see her mother. She walked through the crowd that pushed and shoved her as she walked and who were awed by the beauty that she had possessed. Young girl whispered behind her back about how she was bound to be in the show with her beauty and her grace. They smiled at her as they passed and continued to strain their neck to see what else may descend from the upper levels of the theatre.

Soon Andre and Firmin had burst through the crowd and began to shout orders to those who invaded their theatre.

"All choristers are to congregate in the orchestra chamber to the right side of the foyer," Andre yelled.

"And all dancers to the ballet hall to the left," Firmin shouted even louder than Andre.

"To the left, to the left," Andre yelled with him and pointed as the crowd began to disperse. The only people remaining in the foyer were the stragglers who had managed to gain entrance to the theatre. The uniformed guards, who normally occupied the public areas of the opera house, had difficulty keeping the crowd of hundreds subdued but now that the singers and dancers had left they took their cue to rid the foyer of the rest of the bystanders.

The excitement of the auditions had nearly been unbearable for Andre and Firmin. They had never seen the theatre as busy with requests as it was now. As per the Phantom's request, the painters had been summoned to the theatre yet again, and followed Andre and Firmin in there every move, as they did not quite know what they were to be doing in the Opera Popular, so early in the preparation of a show.

Andre and Firmin had found the first of many of the Phantom's notes late the previous night. It was very short, containing only a few lines and read much like a shopping list.

_Managers _

_Bright and early bring the painters to the theatre. Gather Madame Giry, the young girl Christine and my beautiful Star, Meg and being them to your office upon arrival, before anything starts and wait for further instructions._

_O.G_

The length of the note was puzzling, and yet, somewhat exciting. They buzzed to each other all evening about what the next day would hold have store. Andre had a growing fear that something terrible would occur, but Firmin was truly regaining his optimism.

They summoned the painters to follow them as they searched the ballet hall quickly and found Meg and her mother chattering quietly to each other. Madame Giry seemed a bit displeased with Meg's appearance in a beautiful blue gown, but the sight of her only made the managers more excited.

"Good morning, Ladies," Andre said as he removed his hat from his head and bowed to them.

"Good morning Monsieurs," the two Giry's said politely.

"Come Ladies," Firmin said as he turned on his heals, "the opera ghost has summoned us all to the managers office. We are to bring you and the young girl Christine with us."

"He is not a ghost, nor is Christine a young girl," Meg said displeasure in her tone of voice.

"Quite right," Andre said as he looked nervously at Firmin.

"All the same," Firmin said airily, "we must go, where is she."

"Christine Daae has not come down from her dormitory yet," Madame Giry said as her unhappiness toward Christine seemed to grow.

Seemingly, at the mention of her name, Christine walked into the ballet hall. Her dress was plain and she looked tired but she placed herself quietly against one wall and began to stretch, ready to being to prove that she really was serious about dancing again. The night had been hard on her. All of her hope for realising her plan had faded and once again she knew she was starting from the bottom and would have to prove herself. She knew that the Phantom was unhappy with her and he would be the one she would have to win back to her side. It would be hard, she knew this, because she was plain and aging in a way which she was embarrassed of. Her youthful beauty was leaving her and she had abandoned him once already. She took her place with the ballerinas and sighed, knowing that she at least had a place to stay, for now.

"Ah, there she is," Andre said with a smile as he finally spotted her.

"Right, lets get this over with then," Firmin said as he quickly walked over to Christine, bowed stiffly to her and pulled her by the arm to where Madame Giry, Meg and Andre were waiting.

"Come along then," Firmin said as he motioned to the painters who had stayed in the doorway watching the movements of the young, beautiful ballerinas.

"What is the meaning of this," Christine hissed as Firmin had yet to let go of her arm, "I've not done anything to merit this treatment," she said angrily as he continued to pull her along.

"The ghost... I mean the Phantom... I mean, oh I don't know what I mean," Andre huffed as they walked along.

"The composer has summoned us all," Firmin said finally as he let go of her arm just out side of the office.

"Yes, yes, he's told us to meet here for further instructions," Andre said a bit of excitement in his voice.

Firmin reached out, with the key to the office, and unlocked the door. They all stepped inside, one by one and spotted on the nearby desk a stack of what looked like notes. They stopped short, toward the back wall of the office, and only looked sceptically at the pile of letters, laying innocently on the desk.

"Well go on," Madame Giry said as she gave Andre a shove, "its your office fetch the letters and let's get this over with."

"Very well," Andre sighed and slowly walked to the desk. His hands shook as he picked up the letters and looked down at the names that were on them. There was one for each. Andre handed them out and looked quizzically at the painters who had not received notes from the Phantom. He shrugged and fell silent again.

The tearing of paper broke the silence of the room and then Firmin was the first to speak. He read his note out loud for all in the office to hear.

"Dear Firmin..." he read

_Dear Firmin,_

_As you have proven less, enthusiastic, in the past few days I am leaving you with nothing but managerial work today. Take the painters and the young Mademoiselle Giry, find a brightly lit room and set them to work on painting the posters. Then I would like for you to stay in the orchestra room and read through the list of auditions as we get through them. Group by group send them in to Monsieur Reyer and we'll send them back when we are finished._

_O.G_

"Well there you see, Andre, painless," Firmin smiled as he looked over to the Painters, "you know of your task. Where do you think you would like to paint today?" he asked happily.

"Um, perhaps in the foyer, its is quite bright in there," one of the painters said, "and its quite a bit of gold, it may look like fire in the light," he added the other nodded and they were agreed on the spot.

"Very well then," Firmin said, "you go and set up and I'll bring the young mademoiselle down when we are finished here," he said and with his hand shooed the painters out of the office, "alright Andre, now you go," he added as he sat down.

"Dear Andre," he read...

_Dear Andre,_

_Good day to you my good man, I wish that you are present in the auditions today. I would be pleased if you will join Monsieur Reyer in the performance space. Once you have arrived I will give you more information as to what you need to do for me._

_O.G_

"There you see Andre nothing to worry about," Firmin smiled from his desk.

Andre looked more nervous than he had before he had seen the notes. He walked slowly to his seat and lowered himself into it.

"And you Madame?" Firmin asked as he looked up at Madame Giry.

"I am just to remain in the ballet hall with the rest of the dancers and keep the groups separated, my dancers from the new comers," she said as she handed her note to Firmin so that he could glance over the short text.

"Mademoiselle," Firmin said looking up at Meg, "and yours says?"

"I am to take the costume of _La Diable _and meet the painters when I am fully costumed with make up and jewels," she said and passed the letter to Firmin as well.

"Where are we to get this costume?" Andre said fear rising in his voice, "he didn't give the designers any direction on how to make it. Are you to be naked? He's going to be furious."

"No monsieur," Meg smiled, "the composer is a very talented man. He has presented me with the costume that has already been made. I don't think you need to panic," she smiled and held out a box she had in her arms.

Madame Giry looked over at her quizzically as Meg lifted the lid to the box to show the beautiful costume that lay inside it. Everyone in the room gasped at the vibrant colours and the masses of jewels that accompanied them.

"Brilliant," Andre couldn't help his emotion as he looked down at the garment, "he is very brilliant."

"I agree," Meg blushed.

"Very well then," Firmin said as he broke the focus on the garment, "and you Mademoiselle Daae?"

"Well," Christine said finally braking the silence she had been keeping. Her voice cracked as she spoke but something was growing in her eyes. She cleared her voice, proudly and looked over at Meg. She read...

_Dear Christine_

_You are to be moved into the prima donna's dressing room as I have decided that you shall play the roll of Angelle. You need much work in all area's but I believe it should be beneficial to have someone of experience in the soprano roll. You'll need to work very hard and I will help you but under my terms not yours. You are not to look for me ever again. Now get back to the ballet hall and practice. You'll move your things later._

_Phantom._

A twisted smile crossed Christine's face as she watched the expression on Meg's face change from disbelief to anger and then to hurt. Perhaps what she had done the previous evening had works. Maybe she Phantom was still very much under her powers of persuasion. She was pleased once again with herself and the look on Meg's face brought her even more joy.

"Well you heard the man get back to the ballet hall," Madame Giry said to Christine as she noticed the look on her face, "you'll have to work incredibly hard now young lady to prove you are worthy of this roll. If you do not do as well as he wants I am sure he'll find someone else," she added as she pushed Christine from the room.

Meg shook a little with shock as she stood silent in the room. She looked sadly at her mother and turned herself to leave.

"Well I wouldn't worry much, my dear," Andre said as he noticed the change in Meg's cheerful mood, "you'll out do her as you always have and in that beautiful costume you'll capture every member of the audience."

Meg smiled a little but the hurt was much deeper.

"It will be great publicity," Firmin said, "although they will only see you on the poster. It will make for a better rumour to be spread. Ah he is a genius isn't he," he added as he slapped the notes down onto the desk. "We shall see where this day leads us. Now off you go all of you," he said as he ushered them out of the room.

Meg had little time to worry, the painters were already waiting in the foyer for her. She had much to still get ready before she could be captured on canvas, but suddenly she didn't feel as beautiful as she once did. As she did when she looked into the mirror and into the Phantom's eyes. She also felt guild, she had told him she would stand by everything he was deciding to do. Was she really doubting him now? Could he really have want to her hurt her? Whether he meant to or not, the damage was done. Meg sulked, sadly from the office and off to her dormitory to become _La Diable_.


	26. Three Leads

_**Chapter 26: Three Leads**_

The first day of auditions went over quite smoothly. It was a long and gruelling day with many singers to weed threw, many of which were no where near capable of carrying a tune, let alone to the standards that the Phantom of the Opera would hold. Erik watched over the process from the quiet confines of box five. He was very pleased to, once again, hear the hall filled with song. His ears were so finely tuned, to the music, that he could pin point each singer in the larger groups, that he wished to keep, which wasn't and easy task. One would have to strain to hear the good singers in among the bad, but Erik managed it with ease. To hear them made his heart beat faster. Soon a time would come when he would hear his music once again. It was a prospect that he had longed for and would, finally, achieve.

Andre was the only person to set eyes one the Phantom. He had found a note had fallen from the box above him. The note was addressed to him and within it he was summoned up to box five. Cautiously he made his way to the second level of the theatre and fearfully he pushed open the box door. Erik sat before him calm and silent. He motioned for Andre to take the other seat that occupied the box and it was here that the Phantom finally spoke to him.

"You will follow each and every one of my orders," Erik said in a soft, calm voice, "all of the singers will pass over this stage but not all of them will be allowed to sing in my opera. I can only stand for the best and the brightest. The new and the talented. They will be the once I shall mould into my master piece. Is this understood?" he ask.

"Oh yes," Andre said as he looked up at the white mask that covered the Phantom's face.

"No one else is to see me," Erik said as he turned his face away from Andre, "I will stay in this box and between groups you will come to me and only you."

Andre nodded in understanding of the Phantom's plan and left once again, just as monsieur Reyer was entering the performance space with the orchestra.

After the short, but informative meeting, Andre obeyed every order the Phantom had given. Many of his tasks were listed in the short note and he followed them with renewed dedication to the performance that was beginning. Once a group had finished, they were ushered off the stage and into a room found back stage. There they waited as Andre rushed up to box five. Erik listed off who was to stay and Andre was sent off running once again, while the next group entered to take the stage.

The morning pressed on in this fashion. While Meg remained in the sun drenched foyer with the painters, she watched as the singers, that were not chosen, moved solemnly out of the theatre. As she stood posing she could see that others were being oriented to the space that would become like a second home for them. Great groups of singers were brought into the orchestra hall and to the practice spaces and soon these spaces were filled with singing. The Phantom was wasting no time in commencing the preparations for this great work. Meg longed for the night to come once again. It was a time that she would find the silence and the darkness as welcoming as she had once found the quite empty theatre. The singers did not remain in the theatre, in the evening, like the dancers did. Only stars of the show could stay if they so chose, or if they were interested in learning to dance they would be welcomed into the ballet dormitories, otherwise people were sent on their way when the practices and performances were finished.

More and more singers came and went, as did the dancers. Meg was happy she wasn't in the ballet hall. It would have been even more crowded than usual, with all the new comers. She had never seen so many dancers coming, but the list for the ballet troop was huge. There was no way that the small troop, that they had, would be able to cover all the dancing. It called for massive choruses of dancers and singers. Groups and trios and duets for dance and voice. It would be quiet the spectacle once everything came together. These were things that Meg didn't have to worry about, but for some reason she couldn't help but feeling some sense of panic when these thoughts came to her mind. All she really had to do, for the show, was her own dances. The choreography for the rest of the ballets would be left to her mother and it would be Madame Giry facing the great tasks of readying the dancers. Once they were accepted into the troop, for the show, they would have to answer to the ballet mistress. Madame Giry had never had trouble with her girls before. They were, like any other students, fussy with each other at times and caused problems for each other, but they all showed a great respect for Madame Giry. Now, however, new dancers would be coming into the theatre's troop and many of them had never studied with the ballet Mistress. It would be for her to win them over and to govern over them all. It would be a great task for her, indeed.

It wasn't until late in the afternoon that the painters were really interrupted. Andre had come running out of the theatre and into the foyer after a very handsome young man. He managed to stop him just short of where Meg had been posing.

"Monsieur Roi," Andre had yelled, "please may I have a quick word with you?"

The young man had stopped, smiled at Meg and looked back toward Andre, "how may I be of service, Monsieur?" he smiled and bowed.

"Your singing, today, has caught the attention of the composer,"Andre said, out of breath, as he finally stopped running after the young man.

"Is that so?" Monsieur Roi laughed, "then why was I denied a place in the chorus?" he asked.

"Because the composer would prefer to hear you audition in the lead Tenor roll," Andre said with a smile.

A look of great surprise covered the young mans face, "but I am just a chorister. I don't know anything of playing leads," he said a bit nervously.

"That will please the composer even more," Andre said with a hint of excitement in his voice, "he wants to mould the new talent, into his vision of the future. You will have no bad acting that the Phantom will have to force out of you. You'll only have the inexperience to learn the way the new art should be. And learn it you shall from the master!" he smiled.

The young man smiled back and glanced around the theatre. "It is a very tempting offer, Monsieur Andre, but I dare say I probably have no choice in the matter, if the Phantom of the Opera is involved," he said

Andre's smile grew wider

"He's already made his decision, hasn't he?" Monsieur Roi asked.

"He has," Andre nodded, "he will have no one else play the roll of Adair in his opera."

"Very well then," Monsieur Roi said as he reached out to shake Andre's hands, "you can tell the composer that I will take the roll and that I will return tomorrow to audition for the part," he said, turned to Meg and bowed and then walked from the theatre.

"Ah the excitement," Andre said turning to Meg, "our three leads have been cast. And now the composer would like to see your work," he said to the painters, "bring what you have into the theatre and arrange the canvases on the stage," he said.

The painters did as they were told and quickly left the foyer, carefully moving the wet canvases. None of the paintings had been finished, but many had been started and with quiet a bit of progress. There were at least ten wet canvases for the Phantom to view. From these he would either pick one that he liked or Meg would be forced to pose for another day. Her legs now ached and she was beginning to feel hunger set in. She had hardly moved all day and had nothing else to think about but the way she felt about the Phantom's plans for Christine. It was now true that the three lead rolls of the performance were chosen. Christine Daae would play the angel, Meg the devil and Monsieur Roi would play the unsuspecting love interest. She sighed to herself when she realised that the real roll was being played by the Phantom. It was a terrible trio that would now have to unfold for his decisions had been made.

Once the painters were out of sight, Andre turned back to Meg, "he would like to see you in his box." he whispered.

Meg snapped out of her dream like state as she stood before the theatre's manager, "why?" she asked as she looked to her feet.

"He would not say," Andre shrugged, "but as you are his prima ballerina I would only guess he would be looking for your input on the situation."

"What situation is that?" Meg asked feeling a little startled.

"Oh of you supporting characters I would imagine," Andre laughed, "what did you think of that handsome young man. It shouldn't be hard to pretend to fall in love with him," he smiled and winked at Meg

"I suppose it wouldn't be," Meg said half heartedly.

"Well he's waiting for you," Andre said and motioned up the stairs. He then turned on his heals and left once again.

Meg looked up the grand stairs toward the second level of the foyer. She sighed to herself sadly and began her slow ascent to meet the third in her trio.


	27. The Silence

_**Chapter 27: The Silence.**_

Meg made her way slowly toward the second level of the foyer. The theatre had gown quiet now. The dancers and the singers had been divided into their two groups and continued to practice in their normal fashion, or at least in a fashion that would become normal. Meg, however, was feeling lost. So much had happened in her small world, so many changes, that she was beginning to not recognise herself. She felt week and old, older than she had ever felt. Her body was tire and so was her soul. To much had been happening and she didn't know what to blame the pain on. Her day had been slow but some many thoughts ran through her head. She had given herself to much time to think about the things that were bothering her only making her pain grow.

She heard Christine come out of the ballet hall just as she had started to round the top of the grand stair case. She was talking quickly and in a hush to Andre. Meg couldn't made out much of what was being said, but she did hear Andre mention the handsome new Tenor to take the last remaining lead roll. She had even looked different now. Her motions and the way she carried herself was like someone who had just won at some great battle. The pride radiated off of her and she looked almost nasty in the way she walked through the theatre. Meg was reminded of a time when another Prima Donna has ruled the theatre. It wasn't a happy time for the people that were below her and now Christine looked like that person. Dread swept in around Meg.

She couldn't handle listening much longer as she picked up her pace and rounded the corridor that led to the boxes. It wasn't until the thick silence had closed in around her that she slowed her pace. She was afraid to give to much away when she came to face the Phantom. She had told him she would stand by him, but she didn't understand why he would do something like this. Christine had changed so much. She was not the person they had known, how could he not see it? The only reason she could think of was that he still had feeling for Christine and Meg was beginning to feel her heart break. It wasn't something she had planned on, or expected at all, it had only just happened. She had fallen in love with the Phantom of the opera.

Before she realised it, she was standing outside the door to the Phantom's box. For a split second she panicked as she looked at the number printed on the door. Should she just walk in, or should she knock? Would he actually be in there or was this all just some sick joke someone had planned for her. Maybe it was Christine. Slowly she raised her small hand and tapped lightly on the wooden door.

The door to the boxes swing inward and slowly this one opened before her. Erik smiled as he saw her standing in his doorway. She couldn't help be see the gentleness in his eyes. She smiled back at him. Slowly he ushered her into the box and placed her in a seat at his side. Down on the stage the unfinished paintings looked like a small chorus of dancers. They almost looked like they wanted to move along the stage. The brilliant colours had started to come through. Meg was stunned at the view. Though she had spent most of her life in the opera house she had never witnessed a performance from one of the boxes before. It was true that box five had the best vantage of the stage and Meg understood immediately why it was the Phantom's favourite box.

Erik took his seat next too her and watched her intensely as she looked down at the portraits of herself. Her cheeks had flushed before him as she looked down at the life like images, "tell me," he said startling Meg as he broke the silence, "which do you like the most?" he asked.

Meg shrugged and shook her head, "I don't know," she said honestly, "they are all very beautiful and it would be a shame to not see them all finished. I am flattered that you would have me pose for the painting."

"Well who else would I have chosen," he asked with a slight smiled but suddenly noticed the change in Meg's expression, "something is bothering you."

"I'm fine," Meg smiled but the sadness had not left her eyes.

"You are angry with me," he said as he faced her.

"I am not angry," Meg whispered.

"You are hurt by something I have done though," he said as she looked back out over the stage, "what have I don't that will not allow you to look into my eyes?" he asked.

"I am just being foolish," Meg said her voice cracking a little.

"Foolish about what?"

Meg gasped and ducked behind a curtain as she watched Christine walked out onto the stage among the paintings. She heard her laugh at them and then look out over the theatre. She didn't look beautiful or graceful on the stage, but rather, she looked wicked and full of herself. Meg's eyes filled with tears as she turned and looked back at Erik. She didn't know why but just the sight of Christine had filled her with great sadness. Erik noticed it right away and slipping from his chair he reached out toward the wall of the box. Christine had neither seen nor heard them, as Erik took Meg's hand and led her back into the hidden passage leading out of box five.

Once they were alone again Erik released Meg's hand and stopped before her. She had dried her tears on the back of her hand but couldn't bring herself to look into his eyes. She knew for sure that she would cry once more.

"You are unhappy with my decision to use Christine," he said softly to Meg as he stood before her in the darkness.

"You must have your reasons for choosing her and I have no right to question them," Meg said mustering as much courage as she could to not cry again.

"My reason for it is simple," he said.

"You don't need to justify anything to me, I am simply a dancer," Meg said but regretted saying it once she had.

Erik was silent for a moment. He knew then what had happened in Meg's mind. He had insulted her talents and her heart when he had not explained to her what he had planned for Christine, "you deserve to know as I have hurt you by not telling you," he whispered, "I need to keep her close to keep this secret," he said as he moved closer in the darkness and pulled Meg into his arms, "I cannot let her try and break into what we have, Meg. She's in this for some other, much more selfish, reason than you or I. I am sorry if I hurt you or you were given the wrong impression. I do not have feelings for her anymore." he whispered as he brought his face closer to hers.

A great wave of relief flooded over her as she leaned heavily into him and she aloud herself to cry in his arms. He held her tightly in the darkness. He could feel her hot tears on his cheek and knew that he had said the right thing.

"Its been a long day for both of us," he whispered after a long embrace.

She pulled herself away from him and dried her tears on the back of her hand, "it has," she whispered as she felt his hand on her cheeks.

"Come and dine with me tonight," he said his face becoming clearer in the darkness.

Meg smiled and took his hand once more, to follow him through the darkness back to their silent world.


	28. La Prima Donna

_**Chapter 28: La Prima Donna**_

Auditioning finished off smoothly, Erik couldn't have been happier, and soon the Opera Populair was far more crowded and noisy than it had every been. The new and the old company members meshed well together and were quickly thrown into rehearsals for the quickly approaching show date. Posters of Meg flanked the outside of the building. This infuriated Christine, she wasn't even mentioned on the posters. Within the wall the practice spaces were filled with the music and the dancing that was to be associated with the show. It was a joyous time for many of the company members. They were happy and yet they worked harder than they had ever worked before. The opera was taking on a life of its own and taking over the theatre itself. There was no time for anything but the Phantom's new opera and all were busier than they had every imagine being.

Erik was pleased to see the progress of the actor, singers and dancers for the show. Costumes were coming together quickly and so were the set. A new dedication filled the cast as the theatre transformed. He had never heard a better ensemble play at the opera, he was happy he had hand picked the musicians. The one that he was most pleased with, however, was the virtually unknown tenor he had chosen to be the lead. Rene Roi was a quick learner to say the least. He was picking up the dance part of his roll like it was second nature to him. His voice was pure and strong and his presence on stage was bold and captivating. Erik had worked closely with the man. It was true that no one had ever seen the Phantom of the Opera as much as they had now. He was always among them and though he still made shivers run up the backs of some, and brought great fear to other, he worked his magic with the cast. They were more and more determined to please him as he moved them around the stage.

The other miraculous moment was any time that Meg took the stage. She had become very quiet since the audition period, spending most of her time in the quiet solitude of the Phantom's underground palace. There she was happy and alone, free to work at her craft as he had done his and this pleased him. He had been so busy with the rest of the opera that in the evenings he was more exhausted than he had every been and to sit back and simply watch Meg was a great pleasure for him. All of her solitary practice really payed off. The moments when she did take the stage in rehearsal, she lit up the stage. Her dance was mesmerising. Even though it had been well choreographed it was hard to say that the dance ever looked the same. It was brilliant and colourful and filled with strong emotions. The Devils Lament, most of all, was breath taking. It brought tears to the eyes of the strongest men. It was like she had adopted some of the Phantom's magic and the cast respected and feared her for it but the show would never happen without her. She was the life, the heart and soul of the drama. So much of herself, and her emotion was in the character, no one could have done a better job.

But there was one thing that wasn't working out. Christine had become worse than ever before. Every night between seven and nine the Phantom would go to her and he would teach her but she made no progress. Night after night she would sing, and as he had feared, her voice had lost what he had once loved so dearly. It wasn't that she didn't have the talent to be brilliant. She had lost the love and the passion for the art. Her goal was fame and fortune and it showed in her behaviour. She ordered the cast members around as a true prima donna. Some even complained that she was worse that La Carlotta. It was true she was becoming more and more frustrating and flamboyant as the days went on.

Soon the dress rehearsals were staged and nerves of everyone ran very high. The day of the opening drew near, within a week the theatre would be full of spectators. Already, Andre and Firmin had sold out the first few night and had to book more viewing of the show. Publicity was running high for everyone. Still, Erik managed to stay out of the spot light. He had remained calm and collected, no great rumours had sprouted up out of no where. He was relieved to know that everything would, possible, run smoothly and that the focus of the public was not on him but on the art. This is what he had hoped for. It was this renewed interest in the art that would save the Opera Populair.

Dress rehearsals ran well, the cast was tight, the dancers perfectly synchronised, the costumes and sets were brilliant and believable. Unfortunately, by the end of the first dress rehearsal tempers were running high. Christine was pushing herself around like a queen, yelling and cursing the others who got in her way. It was starting to sink in that her roll wasn't to be the primary focus, that spot was reserved for Meg. This angered Christine to no ends, until she decided to take matters into her own hands. They were drawing near the end of the opera. Christine and Meg had to share the stage. It was a part that had been working well enough, as Meg didn't want to get involved in Christine's drama. Christine, however, had other plans. She pranced around the stage, nearly screaming her pain at Meg, who's silent dance spoke volumes to the character she was mocking. Christine was taking everything personally until finally she ran at Meg and pushed her to the ground.

"Who do you think you are!" Christine screamed, "upstaging me, prancing around like you own the stage."

"What is going on!" Erik yelled from box five.

"I know your game," Christine hissed as Meg stared up at her completely struck with shock, "but unfortunately for you I am the better player. It is I who is the most loved in this cast and there is no way you could ever upstage me!"

"I'm not trying to," Meg said as she struggled to get up, "I'm simply doing as I have been told."

"You are so full of yourself," Christine laughed, "so you say you are not trying to be the star, to upstage me. I am the great Christine Daae, people are flocking to the theatre to see me sing because I am the one that the Phantom loves and you can't stand it can you. You couldn't bare to think that he had already chosen me to play the angel of this drama. Why else would you be the devil you terrible, seductress. You with your dancing and you flirting."

"Meg are you ok?" Rene asked as he rushed over to help her up.

"You stay away from her!" Christine yelled and pulled him away, jealousy rising in her, "so that's you game is it, get all of the men in this cast to fall in love with you, ha, you are pathetic. Don't you get it, you'll never be me. You'll never have what I have because you cannot sing as I do and it is my voice that he loves and that they will all love. Your dance can only do so much for you." She laughed manically.

By now everyone had stopped to watched what was going on. Meg had stumbled again from the fall, she was hurt. Rene pushed past Christine and helped Meg up. Tears had filled her eyes as she limped off to one side of the stage.

"Come back here and face me," Christine screamed.

"You know what, Carlotta, I don't have to take this," Meg said as great tears of anger flowed down her face, "so long as you are on this stage I will not be."

"You lie!" Christine laughed, "you'd never abandon the Phantom."

Meg's face grew red with tears. Everyone was looking, listening to every word, even Erik. He stood horror struck as the two women faced off.

"Or maybe that's your game," Christine said more forcefully, "you are jealous of my renown. I am Christine Daae, the Phantom's first love, returned to take centre stage in his opera. But no you can't have that, you want my fame, you want to see me off the stage. I could tell from the moment I saw you again. You were shocked to see me come back because you know you could never take my place in his heart. I will not give you that satisfaction. You may think that you have won him over, but you haven't. Why would he be coming to me every night. He loves my voice, always had and he always will. That is why I am the star of this show. Now do as you are told and stand aside. This is my spotlight and my greatest moment," she screamed and suddenly Meg felt the sting of Christine's hand across her face.

Ballerina's huddled together in fear. Madame Giry made to move them away from the commotion on the stage. Meg stood, not moving, stunned by the shock of the blow. Christine was clearly going crazy, what had happened to her once she had left. Anger and hurt flowed through every inch of Meg's body. She pulled herself up tall and straight, limping a little on her left foot, "how dare you use him that way," Meg's voice shook as she spoke. She could see Erik in the crowd, his face covered by the mask and she felt pity beyond comprehension for him, "he's not a puppet for you to dangle before people when you feel you need publicity, when your fame is dwindling and your talent lost by your corrupted mind. He is a genius and a person, not a possession that you or anyone will ever own or hold rights to. People must learn to recognise him for his talent and not for his past, and certainly not because of you. He is not your spot light Christine, that went out a long time ago. If you want the public to love you and flock to see you again, you had better work harder at your craft and sing like you've never sung before, because you have lost what you once had and you know you have. It is not his job to save you after what you did to him. That is your responsibility now," Meg yelled as tears flowed down her face.

"How dare you speak to me that way," Christine screamed, rage in her eyes and her voice, "you know nothing of how wonderful I am. You could never see it through your jealousy. You are a no body, Meg Giry. A simple ballerina that will never see the outside of this theatre because you don't have what it takes to move away from it!"

"That is enough!" Erik yelled. "Rehearsal is over. All of you back to the practice halls, everyone needs a lot of work," he hissed and slowly the crowd dispersed.

Slowly he turned to Christine and a triumphant looked crossed her face. She had gotten in the last word. She had won the battle and now she was to be rewarded for her loyalty to the Phantom. She batted her eyes, pleased with herself.

"As for you," he said anger burning in his eyes, "you can be replaced!" he spat at her, "this is my opera and my theatre and you should have never returned."

She was shocked, was she really hearing what she had just heard? Erik turned suddenly away from her and moved slowly over to Meg, he pulled her close to him, "can you walk?" he asked softly.

Meg nodded weekly but held tightly to him for support. They walked off stage together. Christine was left alone on the stage, her spirits crushed, humiliation rising where anger and pride had once resided.

"They'll be no lesson tonight, or tomorrow night Christine, never again will I come to teach you," Erik said as he looked back over his shoulder at the stunned Diva, "you are to take a place in the chorus, you'll never sing lead in a masterpiece of mine ever again."


	29. Diva's Lament

_**Chapter 29: Diva's Lament**_

Christine stood horror struck in the middle of the stage for a very long time before she actually noticed that there were people around her. She could not believe the words that had issued forth from the Phantom's mouth. She watched as he and Meg disappeared into the darkness together. She felt numb, unable to yell or cry or move, it almost seemed surreal, like a bad dream or a joke that she would seen snap out of but it didn't come. There was to be no relief from the nightmare.

Soon she became aware of the angry stares from the other members of the cast and the whispers of who would take her place. Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin had rushed onto the stage, anger raged in their faces and she could tell that they were yelling at her but she couldn't understand the words that came out of their mouths, nothing at all registered.

"Andre I am having terrible deja vu," Firmin hissed as he spun around and looked at his partner, "ruined, she's ruined us!"

"Who is it replace her?" Andre moaned, "we open in days, mere days!"

"Well there is a very bright young lady in the chorus," Madame Giry said as she pulled a little woman from the ranks of her ballerinas.

"Oh not this again," Andre cried.

"It is the Phantom's decision, let him make the final cut!" Firmin yelled and stormed away.

"As for you," Andre hissed, "remove that costume at once and return to your place in the ballet dormitory!" he cursed under his breath as he followed Firmin angrily from the room.

Christine walked away from them as if they weren't there at all and off the stage. She moved through the theatre as if she was floating out of her own body. She didn't remember much of what had happened. It all seemed unclear. She had been on the stage, she had been proud and beautiful and then center of attention and now she was alone and Meg was the center of the theatre's universe. She walked into the darkness of her dressing room not even realizing that she had arrived. She had locked her door behind her and sat herself down at her little vanity table to admire herself, surely what was happening wasn't really happening. It couldn't be true, she wouldn't let herself believe it.

She waited for hours for the Phantom to come to her, to start her lessons, to apologies for his anger and to plead for her forgiveness but he never came. Never was the darkness broken by the light of his candle. Never did she hear his soothing, passionate, sorrowful voice through the darkness.

She finally snapped out of her daze when there came a knock at the door. She slowly stood, convinced it was someone coming to apologies and tell her how much they needed her to return to the stage. She carried herself proudly to the door and with a grand sweep of her arm, and an unmoveably look on her face, she swung open the door.

"What in gods name are you doing?" Monsieur Firmin yelled as he pushed passed her into the small dressing room and lit the lamps. A group of men followed him in and looked anxiously around the room, "you will return to the ballet dormitories at once and remove that costume. The Phantom has ordered that Mademoiselle Fillande needs this room and the costumes for the performance," he said angrily as he thrust a piece of folded parchment into her hands.

_Managers:_

_Mademoiselle Genevieve Fillande is to replace Christine Daae, Tonight!_

_O.G._

"What are you talking about," Christine asked furiously as she crumpled the note in her hands, "do you know who I am, who you are taking to. You will address me as Madame when you speak to me," she scolded.

"Yes and you are as bad as La Carlotta!" Firmin yelled, "would you like me to have you thrown out, Madame?" he asked, "you will vacate this room, now!"

Christine stood in shock as men started to pick up her things and remove them from the dressing room, "unhand my things"! She screamed as the vanity table was lifted off the floor.

"Yes, let that go, it will remain for the new Diva," Firmin said motioning to the vanity table, "as for you," he yelled spinning to face Christine, "get out now!" he yelled gabbing her by the upper arm and pushing her toward the door, "you are lucky we haven't thrown you out completely for angering the composer," he shouted into her face as he handed her off to another, much bigger and much more frightening, man, "take Madame Daae to the ballet dormitory and leave her to Madame Giry for punishment, she is no longer of my concern," Firmin said and went back into the dressing room and ordered the movers around.

She struggled desperately against the man's grip as he pulled her through the dark corridors of the Opera Populaire, yelling hysterically at anyone and everyone she came to pass, until she was shoved roughly into the crowded ballet hall. She stumbled and fell to someone's feet. The young ballerinas that gathered around gasped as Christine shouted at them in a language not appropriate for any woman. She stopped as a crack like thunder sounded through the hall, followed by a great silence. Before her, dressed all in black and gripping her cane furiously was Madame Giry, staring down at her condescendingly.

"No on is keeping you Ms. Daae," Madame Giry hissed, almost in a whisper but her tone was angry and displeased, "you may leave if you wish. The door is that way," the old woman pointed off in the direction of the door.

"What?" Christine gasped not believing what she had just hear come from the woman's mouth, not after what she had confided in this woman.

"You heard me," Madame Giry hissed.

Christine stopped her hysterics at these words, everything was terribly real. She had been kicked out of her roll. She was back where she had started, a no body and now with hundreds of people angry with her and more soon to know of her humiliations.

"I've no where else to go," Christine whispered as tears filled her eyes and she sobbed as the realization finally hit her.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Madame Giry asked.

Christine's face grew red with anger, how dare this woman allow her secrets to be revealed to the entire ensemble, "I've no where to go," she hissed a little louder.

"No where to do you say, then I suggest you behave yourself or you will be kicked out," Madame Giry hissed angrily, "let that be a lesson to you all, there will be no special treatment for anyone, we will throw you out with nothing to your name and only the humiliation to accompany you. Do I make myself clear?" she asked.

"Yes Madame," rose from the sea of ballerinas.

"Christine, I didn't hear you, was what I said not clear?" Madame Giry asked as Christine did not answer her.

"You were clear as crystal," Christine said as she stood, furiously, before the ballet mistress.

"Good, then I suggest you retire to the dormitory, you know where it is, and remove that costume, for it is needed by the new young lady who will be taking your place. We will discuss tomorrow where you stand, with this company, and what punishment is necessary," Madame Giry said sternly and turned to conduct her ballet rehearsal.

Christine could put forth no protest. She could only do as she was told, there was no other act to perform, no cards to place. She had been struck down in her act and was now to pay the consequences. She sulked off to the nasty whispers and glares of the rest of the ballet troop.


	30. A New Charge

_**Chapter 30: A new Charge.**_

Meg was quiet as she limped along the underground passage that led toward the Phantom's underground home. She had only twisted her ankle slightly but she was in more pain then she could imagine, mental and physical pain. Though Erik held her tightly to him and she could feel the warmth and the strength of his arms around him, she shivered with cold and shock from the events that had just transpired. It was shocking, she had never seen behaviour like this from a member of the cast and it was frightening as she remembered the look of sadness in Erik's eyes as his masterpiece began to fall apart around him. She had a terrible foreboding feeling of deja vu, like it had all happened before and that something incredibly terrible was going to happen but she wished beyond hope that it would not involve Erik again. She prayed that, whatever happened, he would keep his temper under control.

He had already taken her to box five where he scribbled a quick note and left it where the managers would find it and then without a glance back he marched her off into the darkness. She could not believe what had happened to the girl who had once been a dreamer and a friend. In the beginning they had shared so much hope for the future and now, Meg could see that Christine was far more desperate then anyone had first anticipated. She was no longer angry with Christine but felt sorry for her and wondered what in the world would drive a person to so much. What was going on in her head, what had happened in the short three years that she had been away and with her new husband. Could things have really been that bad for Christine Daae. She could only imagine what was now going on high above them in the theatre and ballet halls.

"You'll not take the stage with her again. She's nothing but a chorus ballerina now, you'll never have to deal with her," Erik whispered as they walked slower.

"But I need the practice and they need me there to guide them, I shall see her everywhere in the theatre, in the ballet hall and in the dormitories," Meg whispered.

"You'll not be returning to the surface, as it will be dangerous for you, I can't allow anything to happen to you," he said as they stopped and he looked deep into her eyes, "You will remain in my home and the space will be provided for your comfort and your practice," he said softly but with a hint of urgency.

Meg remained silent as they continued to walk. The fear and the love in his eyes was to much for her to protest and she knew that he had only her best interest in mind.

"I will guide them, as I have watched you dance enough and know how you move through the sequences. I will keep them in order and only when the show is ready for the public will you take the stage. I don't want to risk another uncalled for interruption in the production and what would I do if you were injured severely?" he asked as he helped her up a ladder and over another narrow patch of ground.

"I'll do as you wish," she said not wanting to upset him anymore then he already was and she could tell that the outburst was playing heavily on his mind.

Meg fell silent again. She knew not to argue with him and if his wishes were to keep her safe then she would do all that he asked her to do. The truth was she didn't want to return to the stage just yet. Her ankle was swollen and sore and her head just wasn't in the right place after listening to Christine's mad ranting. She felt far safer with a man that had once killed out of lust then with a woman seeking fame at any cost.

She welcomed the warmth of the green space and the company of the many animals as the wall moved away to the underground world. Erik whistled into the open space and quickly Tangae crept across the moss covered grown as the two of them emerged into the blinding bright light.

"Take her to the house and care for her," Erik whispered to Tangae, who purred loudly.

Tangae bent low to the ground and Erik helped Meg mount the great beast.

"You'll be safe with her, she knows ways of finding me if anything goes wrong. She'll not leave your side as long as I am gone," he said and petted the great cats head.

"Where are you going?" Meg asked softly as fear spread across her face.

"I have things that I need to deal with before I retire for the night," he said softly, "don't worry I'll keep control of my temper, I dare say I don't have that in me anymore," he smiled and caressed her face, "a woman's love changes a man."

Meg nodded sadly but couldn't help but feel great leaps in her heart for him. It was true she did love him, she believed his words but feared he may get angry. She didn't dare say anything else.

"The worst of my fury is done with," he said noticing her sadness, "I only need to teach Christine a new lesson."

Meg looked tearful for a moment as Tangae stood again and began to walk slowly across the mossy field to the great wooden doors of the Phantom's palace.


	31. A New Revenge

_**Chapter 31: A New Revenge.**_

Erik watched silently from the shadows as Tangae gently brought Meg across the field to the house. The tiger was smart and agile and could even open the doors to the house without anyone. He watched until the two of them disappeared into the darkness of the entrance hall and knew that she was once again safe. He then turned quickly and, following yet another path, made his way back up into the living areas of the theatre.

As he passed the back stage area he heard the movers in the small dressing room that had belonged to Christine. He hardly glanced in as he passed through the shadows of the back stage. That place only held negative feelings for him now. The brightness that had once resided inside now lived down deep in the darkness of his world. A love that he had never dreamed he could feel. He felt calmer and no longer ruled by his passion. His mind was clear in his love for Meg and he had long ago put Christine far from his thoughts. She was not who he once believed her to be. Her new countenance was disgusting to him and he regretted even looking on her again.

From the entrance hall, of the theatre, he could hear the gossip starting. Men and women, who had witnessed what had happened, whispered over exaggerated accounts of the events but the fear of the Phantom was not with them. Instead their whispers were of sympathy for him and his masterpiece. He grinned to himself as he carried on his way. Up further and further he traveled, until he stood outside of the managers office. The door was open only a crack but Erik could see that Andre was the only one inside. He paced in the shadows, before the door, waiting for something. Erik knew that he was waiting for Firmin to return from overseeing the transfer of the new Diva to her new Living quarters.

Soon enough Firmin returned to the office. As he stepped into the office and began to close the door behind him Erik stepped out of his hiding place and placed his foot in the door to stop it. Firmin spun around only to come face to face with the Opera Ghost.

"Good god, man," Firmin hissed still breathing hard from the fright, "you should learn to knock."

"I'm not one for formalities, Gentlemen, nor am I one for face to face meeting but because of today's developments I have decided that we should have a chat. There are things we need to discuss that I could not have demanded in notes," Erik said as he motioned for Firmin to sit down and he took a see himself before the two desks.

"It has been quiet an eventful day, hasn't it," Andre said ruffling through the account books and trying to break the unbearable silence that had developed.

"That would be the polite way of putting it," Firmin grunted.

"Too true, gentlemen, I can see you are as unhappy with the developments as I am," Erik said as he made himself comfortable, "I can't say that I am entirely pleased with the events but I am trying to suppress my temper as I know you cannot afford another chandelier."

"Thank god," Andre seemed extremely worried.

"I suppose the events of today will be the publicity that you have been waiting for," Erik stated

"Yes, well people do like a good mystery," Andre smiled.

"Its more of a tragedy, isn't it?" Firmin asked.

"It is unfortunate, but nothing more than that," Erik said confidently, "I believe that our little Mademoiselle Fillande will be able to sing the role. She had a beautiful young voice, she was a good choice by our beloved ballet mistress. She will work hard, I will meet with her shortly to arrange a few emergency lessons. You may also publish that information when you give your interviews to the press," Erik said seriously looking from one to the other, "you may speculate about my relationship with the young diva, as well as Mademoiselle Giry but it must be known that I am unhappy with Madame Daae. I am disgusted with her behaviour and you can quote me on that," Erik stated.

"You are willing to be acknowledged in the press?" Andre asked, stunned at the Phantom's words.

"Yes, you can tell your public that I am indeed returned, and that yes the drama is my greatest work to date. You may say that I fancy the leading ballerina, and that I am coaching the new soprano, whom I wish keep secret until opening night, do not give out her name," Erik stated.

Firmin frantically wrote notes on a long sheet of paper as Andre stared wide eyes at the Phantom.

"You are good," Firmin said after Erik had paused and re read what he had written, "is there anything else?"

"Well, I am sure you can embellish what happened today, leave me out of it but be sure to mention the brutality of Christine's behaviour," Erik said and sighed a little, "it is unfortunate to take revenge in this way but I feel that Madame Daae needs the humiliation to calm her down. Nothing else is working so we'll have to send her out like La Carlotta."

"It pleases me greatly to know that death isn't an option," Andre smiled weekly as he listened to the Phantom.

"I am not willing to risk that anymore," Erik said with a frown, "I do hope that nothing drastic will have to happen."

"Oh praise the lord," Andre said, "our budget just couldn't handle drastic measures anymore."

Firmin read and reread everything that he had written down, it seemed to good to be true to have an interview with the Opera Ghost, would people believe it? "Do you really believe this will have your desired effect?" her asked handing Erik what he had captured on paper.

"Oh yes," Erik smiled after he had reread what he had just been handed, "you make add or subtract whatever you feel is necessary. However I would like to be left as far out of the controversy as possible, I've done nothing wrong this time around, you have to agree with that."

"You've been nothing but a pleasure to work with," Andre smiled fearfully.

"Thank you," Erik smiled, bowed and left the office.

"Can you believe this Andre," Firmin nearly jumped for joy as he waved the paper over his head, "its is the scandal that we needed."

"And with the permission to print we'll keep everyone happy," Andre smiled from his seat.

"Well, all except Madame Daae," Firmin chuckled.

"She deserves what she gets for nearly ruining the show!" Andre said angrily.

"I agree," Firmin smiled and went back to scripting exactly what he would say to the press the following day.


	32. A Woman's Madness

_**Chapter 32: A woman's Madness:**_

Christine sat alone in the ballet dormitory for a very long time, stewing over what had happened, where her plan went wrong and becoming more and more angry and less remorseful. She blamed her situation and the whole ordeal on Meg and not the Phantom. It was her jealousy coming through as she paced up and down the empty room. How could it be that a girl who was nothing compared to her could obtain a love that one a man killed for. Christine didn't understand how she could not have won the Phantom's heart when, at one time, she hadn't wanted it. She was distressed and hated Meg even more for being the kind hearted person that would see the goodness in anyone, even a monster like the Phantom of the Opera.

"Well at least you weren't kicked out completely," she said to herself as she walked, "you could have been completely banished from this place but they know they can't work without you. You'll just have to work to show them that Meg Giry is nothing and that Christine Daae is and always will be the star of the Opera Populaire. As for the Phantom, he must still love me," she cooed to herself, "or I would be gone. He's just playing with me," she said pushing his love for Meg as far out of her mind as she could possibly manager.

She believed herself to be the next legend of the Opera Populaire, she would go down in history, much like the Phantom himself, and she deserved the title. She could do all that it took to get what she wanted, just as the Phantom had done, only three years before.

"Would you killed for this?" a voice inside her asked as she looked into a mirror that hung on the wall, "if it comes to that, yes, I would, but there are worse things then death for Meg Giry, isn't there?" she asked herself, "never dancing again, a career threatening injury," she said to herself, "what I did tonight was nothing, and if I have to push her off the stage to stop her from dancing I will, then there would be no reason for the Phantom to give her his undying love and affection, she would be useless to him. It will be returned to me, everything that was taken from me tonight and in my past, it will come back to where it belongs."

Christine sunk into her bed as the ballerinas started to arrive from a long day of work. She pretended to be asleep as they crept in and whispered to one another.

"They have let her come back to the ballet troop," she heard one of the younger ballerinas say in shear disgust at seeing Christine in bed.

"Trust me, she is becoming just like La Carlotta, I was here when she was and the woman was a tyrant. We rejoiced when she was gone and now we have a new tyrant, Christine Daae. She has to understand that she is washed up. That Viscount, that she married, stole her youth and her talent and now she has nothing of interest for anyone,"an older girl whispered and was met with loud giggles, she hushed them as she looked cautiously at Christine's bed, "I dare say she wont last much longer here, the Phantom wont have it, for isn't it obvious he has the love of a ballerina now?"

"Who would want a over the top Diva anyway, singing is so over rated," another ballerina giggled and pirouetted in the dormitory. The other girls laughed with her knowing just how seductive the dance could be.

Christine had turned to face the wall, with her back to the room, when the ballerinas had started to arrive. The ballerinas could not tell that she was listening to their every word but she did not care. Her idea of self worth was much higher and her judgement was so clouded that she had to suppress her laughter at the stupid ballerinas. She smiled to herself as they whispered to each other and laughed at Christine's expense but Christine, the whole time, was plotting on how to get ride of them all while she was scheming against their beloved leading ballerina.

The chatter ended when Madame Giry entered the dormitory. The ballerinas had always been paranoid to let their mistress hear any of their negativity. The woman always looked so strict and serious. She was never one to put up with anything and had always caught the scheming before it could transpire into anything else. It was like she had a sixth sense that way. She walked up and down the rows of beds with a look of anger and suspicions on her face, analyzing every girl as she passed. It almost felt, for the ballerinas, like she could see deep within them and read their inner most thoughts. It was a terrible feeling when the woman was angry and her eyes fell on you.

"I want you all to listen and listen well," Madame Giry said into the silence of the room. She spoke loud enough that it would have woke even the soundest of sleepers, "Christine Daae are you listening to me?" she asked as she stepped forward and jabbed Christine in the back with the end of her cane, "I know you are awake and always have been." the ballerinas gasped.

Even if Christine had been asleep, she couldn't fake it now. After the sharp, painful, jab she rolled over in bed, rubbing her eyes and looked up at the ballet mistress.

"Listen all of you," Madame Giry said, never taking her eyes off Christine as the rest of the ballerinas gathered around, "another display, like that of this afternoons, will not be tolerated in this institution. We have absolutely zero tolerance for anything that anyone should be planning and should you try anything you will be removed from this place and asked never to return, humiliated for your crimes against the arts and this school. Had it been up to me, Christine would have been banished on the spot and until I have been contacted by the Phantom and give him my opinion on the situation you will not be in this performance at all," she said staring down at Christine.

Madame Giry turned sharply away from Christine and headed for the door, "do I make myself clear ladies?" she asked as she walked out.

"Yes, Madame," echoed through the hall and after the ballet mistress as she left.

Christine rolled back over in bed to face the wall again. She smirked to herself, she didn't believe a word of what the old woman had said. One day she would rule the theatre again, as she had when she had started, and her first step toward that goal would be to be ride of Meg Giry. With her out of the way, Christine knew she would could move into the place of power. The theatre was no longer at the hands of the opera Ghost but was like putty in the Diva's hands.

"The first to leave, when I am queen, will be you. You old bat," Christine hissed under her breath as she listened to the frantic gossip of the Ballerinas.


	33. Fear The Phantom

_**Chapter 33: Fear the Phantom:**_

When his meeting, with the managers, had finished and Erik had made clear all of the things he was waiting to hear circulated as rumor, he headed back into the shadows of the theatre. He had one more matter of business to attend to before returning to Meg's side. He worried greatly about her but knew that she was well hidden and until he could return to take care of her, Tangae would not leave her side.

He moved quickly and gracefully through the theatre until he found himself outside of the dressing room that had, only hours before, been occupied by Christine Daae. For the first time in his life he didn't know how to proceed in speaking to the young woman who was taking over in Christine's place. He was certain that the young singer would be able to pull off the roll, as he had never seen anyone so attentive in his life when it came to learning how to sing and loving the lyrics. He couldn't decide if he should dare frighten the poor girl and use magic on his first visit or if he should just knock and see if she answered. Finally he decided on the direct approach. He knocked once, on the solid wooden door and before a response came, he grabbed the handle and walked in.

The young girl stopped hallway across the room and gasped as the masked man, the Phantom of the Opera, walked into the dressing room and closed the door, locking it behind him. With every step he took she fell back further into the darkness of the small room, until her back was against the mirror at the back of the room.

She stared fearfully into the eyes of the Opera Ghost, tears rising in her eyes as he moved closer and closer, never in all her life had she been so frightened.

"Mademoiselle," Erik said as he bowed to the quivering girl, "I am only here to congratulate you."

His words didn't do anything to comfort her. She was rooted in fear as tears rolled down her pail face.

"I am not here to hurt you, my dear," he said softly.

Erik's heart ached to see the fear that he could still instill in people. The young woman looked so afraid and helpless before him her eyes wide with fear and her back pressed against the mirror willing it to move. He had grown used to the softness in Meg's eyes when she looked at him. She never showed him any fear anymore but here in the eyes of a young girl, who know only of his past, was helplessness and fear to the point of tears, merely by his presence. Perhaps it would have been better to prepare her for this visit with a message from the managers, but it was too late for that now.

"Please do not be afraid of an old man," he said as he sat down in a chair that sat against one wall. He became very quiet and just watched as she got used to his presence in the room.

"What have I done to bring you here, Monsieur?" Genevieve whispered still with her back against the mirror.

"You've done nothing but a wonderful job in my drama. I am pleased to say I have not seen enthusiasm and knowledge in a singer as young as you before. I am very much looking forward to having you in the leading soprano roll. That is the reason I have come to you this evening. You need not be afraid of me. I only come to offer my assistance should you feel you need it," he said, watching the young woman's every move.

"And you believe I can do this? I am just a chorus girl," Genevieve said as she slowly moved away from the mirror and cautiously sat down in a chair facing the Phantom.

"Christine Daae was nothing but a chorus girl before she was the envy of all the singers in the Opera Populaire," Erik answered matter of factly.

"Yes, that is true," she whispered, "but she had always been here, I have only just come."

"Yes, but I know you are familiar with the roll, dare I say you have it already memorized. I've seen you sing along with Christine from the chorus. It is quite convenient actually, for me anyways, instead of trying to recast the roll this late in the production with a singer that is not familiar with the show in any way," he said and almost smiled.

"I will do my best, sir, though I have never really had any real training in a soloist way," she said and blushed.

"That is not a problem, we can arrange a few lessons if it would make you more comfortable, before throwing to the sharks," Erik said.

"Really?" she asked brightly and smiled for the first time, "it wouldn't be any trouble with the show so soon?"

Erik laughed a little, "trouble, my dear, that is no trouble. Trouble would be trying to teach a brand new girl the whole show in a matter of days. It would mean disaster for the drama if you did not agree to take the roll and as the composer and casting director for this, my greatest achievement to date, I will do all in my power to make sure you are ready for what is in store for you."

"That is so kind of you sir," she said softly and smiled at him.

Erik stood again and bowed to the girl before turning and walking toward the door.

"When shall I expect my lessons?" she called after him.

"We will discuss that tomorrow, tonight I think some rest is in order. It has been a very strenuous day for all of us," he said and disappeared out into the hallway.


	34. The Phantom's Diva Disaster

_**Chapter 34: The Phantom's Diva Disaster.**_

Christine pranced through the ballet hall the next morning filled with a mind to show everyone what was what. Her pride and disillusionment was very high, running through her, telling her she could do no wrong as she was the favorite and had been for so long. She was lost to the world and truly to herself. Her mind was not complete at that time. She didn't seem to notice the stares of the other ballerinas. The whispers that followed her though the ballet hall and the rumors that had started were loud to the world but oblivious to Christine. The ballerinas giggled as they watched her act so proud, because they knew it was now the end of her career. It was certain that she wasn't long for the ballet troop.

It wasn't until Christine came to a group of ballerinas, closer to her own age, that she learned what was really happening. That her mind had allowed her eyes to register what had been before her the whole time. They were huddled around something and laughing historically. She had managed to come close enough to hear their conversation before any of them realized she was even there.

"Oh, well look who it is ladies," one girl said loud enough to get the attention of the entire ballet hall, "its Madame de Chagny."

"No, no she goes by Mademoiselle Daae again," another corrected and giggled.

"we must feel so privileged to have the once favorite of the Phantom in our presence," a tall, lanky girl, mocked and bowed to Christine.

"Yes but it is now public knowledge that he is seriously displeased with her," another girl said, waving around a news paper.

"What is that?" Christine yelled grabbing at the paper but the other girls pranced away with it.

"Look at what else it says," another girl laughed from further away, waving yet another paper, "he will never again waist a moment on Christine Daae. He is to busy with his star ballerina and the new diva to take the lead roll away from Christine that he can't even be bothered."

"It can't be true,"Christine gasped.

"Can't it?"a voice broke the nasty chatter and noise that filled the ballet hall.

The ballerinas stopped in their tracks as Madame Giry emerged from the shadows. She walked briskly through the hall with a paper in her own hands.

"It is surprising how much people love the drama, you have made front page news, Christine, it seems you have been singled out," she said and placed the paper in Christine's hands, "I dare say you'll have to believe it now."

"You can't believe everything you read," Christine hissed

"That is true, but it is never the case," Madame Giry said, "if it is printed then it is true until someone contradicts it. So until we are proven wrong, until the Phantom gives another interview, which is most unlikely, you will never be permitted to perform as a singer in this establishment. You are a black sheep, as the outcast of this institution you would be wise to gather your things and leave. You are quite possible the biggest disgrace that our resident composer has every had. I thank all that is good that he may be able to redeem himself yet," she said as she stared deeply into Christine's eyes.

Christine's heart sank, never had she ever heard such words of spitefulness come out of the woman's mouth. She had always been a very stern kind of woman but never did she ever seem spiteful and yet every glance, every move and ever word screamed out how much Christine had done wrong. She couldn't bare to believe any of it and rushed around the room as she grabbed at the news papers to be rid of them.

"It is your want to read what is being said about our prima dona?" Madame giry asked as Christine screamed at other girls to show her the paper.

"It is," Christine said looking angrily at her teacher.

"Very well," Madame Giry said and threw a paper at Christine's feet, "perhaps if you read it aloud those of us who have not had the joys of reading the whole article will be brought into the know. It is quite the intrigue."

"I would rather not,"Christine hissed.

"It was not a request," Madame Giry smiled, "you'll read it aloud."

Christine glared at her teacher even angrier then before. Never had she hated this placed more then she did now. It was disgusting for her to be there and to see how she was now being treated and still her mind told her that she had done no wrong, that they were the jealous ones. She pulled the paper into her hands and looked down at the headline. It was a terrible sight to behold and yet she was now surrounded by the giggling Ballerinas and being prompted by Madame Giry to read aloud.

"You wish to humiliate me more," Christine hissed to her teacher.

"This is what you wanted, Christine, the attention is yours," Madame Giry said loud enough that it echoed off the walls of the ballet hall, "please, now that all eyes are on you, I think you should satisfy your audience and read to us your story," the ballet mistress said and then fell silent.

The ballerinas all followed suite and the ballet hall fell into absolute silence. No one moved and all eyes were on Christine. She trembled for the first time since returning to the theatre. She could not bring herself to look at the article.

"Very well, young woman, I see you are no longer going to take my orders and so I assume that we shall see you leave this place before the day is over. However I will not relinquish my hold on you just yet. You will here what this article has to say," Madame Giry announced and clearing her throat she took up the paper and began.

"_For the first time in the great history of disasters, scandals and musical drama the Phantom of our beloved opera has been making headlines but never in such a way as this. The managers of the Opera Populair sat down with our reporters very early this morning to bring to light the strange affairs eclipsing the new drama, 'we simply needed a new drama for our establishment and thought that the Phantom would be the best man for the job,' said Monsieur Andre to reporters this morning, 'we knew there would be some trouble, as there always is but we never dreamed it would come to this,' he said when asked about the plans to bring back the phantom, 'at first we had anticipated disaster by the hands of the Phantom himself, it has happened before, but never in our wildest dreams did we think anything like this could happen' he added before going silent._"

"_We reported to you earlier this month about the return to the opera by the infamous Diva Christine Daae. She had been cast by the once lustful Phantom to play, once again, the leading lady in his newest opera 'La Dance Du Diable'. In a great turn of unfortunate events the Phantom has sat down with the Managers to discuss the direction of how the opera is to proceed. The opera in question is set to open in mere days. Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin both seemed quite distressed when speaking with our reporters, 'Christine Daae has been nothing but trouble since her coming back to the opera,' Andre informed us, 'her animosities toward everyone in the cast grew to breaking point yesterday evening when she physically assaulted the staring Ballerina, Mademoiselle Meg Giry,' he added. 'It seems to many involved that the attack was a result of a growing jealousy that Christine had been developing toward Meg,' Monsieur Firmin informed us and confessed, 'the Phantom of the Opera is very displeased with her. So much so that he had pulled her completely from the show and has placed her back in the ballet troop. Madame Giry informs us that she will not deal with the young woman's antics and so we must let the young woman go. She will not be permitted back in the Opera Populair and will be asked to leave immediately'_."

"_It seems to this publication that the Phantom has an eye for yet another young woman as Christine Daae has been replaced by a chorus girl of very little training, a Mademoiselle Genevieve Fillande. When asked if the speculation of the same tragedies of three years ago occurring Andre answered, 'we have been told by the Phantom himself that Mademoiselle Fillande is simply fit for the roll. She has put much effort into her place in the chorus and he believes that she knew the show well enough that she can be placed into the leading position without much trouble,' but this does not explain why the young woman was chosen. We may speculate that the phantom has taken to the young woman as he once did Christine, but the managers assure us that, that is not true, 'we are under the impression that their had been a rather lengthy courtship going on between Mademoiselle Giry and the Phantom for some time. I dare say that it is the ballerina and not the diva whom the Phantom is looking to now,' Firmin told us but would not speculate further._"

"_When finally brought back to the subject of Christine Daae, Firmin came forward to say, 'the Phantom has told us he has been quite mislead by Mademoiselle Daae's character. He is exceedingly displeased with her and will have no more contact with the diva ever again. He says that she is quite possible the biggest disgrace his career has ever seen, much more then the affair of three years past.' If this is indeed the truth we will be covering the departure and any activities surrounding the Opera Populair in the coming days._"

"_We can now only say that Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin as in a rather sketchy situation. To be so close to opening night and only having a new diva in rehearsals at the present and an injured staring ballerina, but they both seem to be very optimistic as to the shows success, 'it's brilliant and heart breaking, truly the Phantoms life story if ever their could be one,' Andre beamed as we inquired as to the show. 'We cannot tell you anything more about the plot but promise a wonderful evening of love, lust and heart break,' Firmin added, 'Mademoiselle Giry is breath taking, this roll will throw her into world recognition, never in all my life have I ever seen anything as beautiful as her passionate dancing,' he finished beaming with pride for this long awaited event. The opera opens two nights from Monday and is set to run for a month at the Opera Populair_."

Madame Giry finished reading and folded the paper in her hands, "have you any doubts now as to your fate, Mademoiselle Daae?"

"No," Christine whispered, her head bowed in shame and embarrassment, "I will gather my things and be gone today," and with that she bowed out of the ballet hall and ran off in tears.


	35. Meg Awakes

_**Chapter 35: Meg Awakes.**_

Meg remembered nothing of what had passed after her return to the manor underground. She lay in her large warm bed, the artificial light pouring in the window and across the bed. Her body had been in so much turmoil the previous evening that once it was over and she found herself safe from the terrors of the ground levels she moved, as if already lost to the world. Tangae never leaving her side, she found her bed room and changed her clothing and fell into a deep sleep.

She found it so very strange, and yet very reassuring that she felt so safe in a place that had once been feared by so many. Even though the underground parts of the opera house had been so widely searched, no one really wanted to fine the Phantom. There was to much fear surrounding him at one. Meg now found it almost laughable, he was such a gentle, quiet, misunderstood man. His musical genius was beyond anything of the time and if one looked passed his scars his face had rather handsome features. Strong cheekbones, a predominate nose and eyes that had a life and a captivity to them that could melt her heart. His voice, through she seldom heard him sing, when he did was warm and kind. His passion lived deep within him and wasn't easily obtained but Meg felt for the first time that she had reach into a part of him that he had never given up to anyone.

That previous night he had held her so tightly and with so much fear that he trembled himself, she had felt it but had not given it much through. He was indeed worried for her and couldn't get her away from the danger fast enough. She was safe, he knew that, and with her safe he could put his mind at ease.

When morning had finally arrived, Meg awoke well rested, with only the memory of what had happen the previous evening. The pain in her ankle was gone and yet she was a bit startled to be alone. It had become a normal occurrence to awake to Erik beside her or at least present in the room. He was not present on this morning, only Tangae remained at the bed side.

As Meg stirred in her bed, so did the great cat. Leaning over the side and placing her feet on the floor Tangae raised herself up and placed her great head on the mattress at Meg's side. She was a loyal companion, not only to Erik.

"You have been a very loyal ladies maid," Meg whispered to the great cat as she pet Tangae's head.

Meg leaned her injured foot onto the floor to check the injury, it was completely healed with rest. She was pleased that she would be able to continue the drama for Erik, but she was worried that he had not returned to her. Surely if he had returned to the house Tangae would have known, but as she was still at her side, Meg became worried. She walked to the door quickly, on silent dancers feet and out of her room to search the rest of the house.

It hadn't been long since Meg had first come to the house underground, but in her time there she had become very familiar with the floor plan of the home. There wasn't anywhere she was not aloud and, though it had been the home of a bachelor for many, many years, Meg felt completely comfortable in this place. In fact she wished never to have to leave it. She had every thing she had ever wanted right in the Opera Populair.

As she walked through the house she couldn't help but admire the majesty of the place. Much of the elegance of the upper levels of the opera house were mirrored in this place. And yet a silence had captured the house that was eery. She had never heard it so quiet before. The birds from the green space could not be heard in the darkness of the inner walls. There was no music, no singing, nothing but the soft patter of her dainty feet on the cold floor could be heard as she walked.

She passed every room as she walked on determined to find Erik. Her heart beet harder in her chest as she passed room after room and he was not there. She was taken a back by the amount of feelings she was feeling for him at that moment. It had all happened so fast and yet she believe she could never live if he did not return to her. Terrible thoughts of duels, of captures, or even death passed before her eyes. She was worried for him and wished more then ever that he was beside her. The love she felt for him was suffocating as she could not find him. Tears welled in her eyes as she walked and at every turn she was distressed to not find him.

Her countenance must have changed as she walked on because Tangae walked closer and quicker beside her, leaning herself close to Meg for support. It was clear that the great cat was feeling the same anxiety as Meg was.

Finally they came to a room that Meg had never ventured into before. The door had always been closed and she hesitated before reaching out for the handle. Slowly and with as much courage as she could muster she pushed open the door.

A great sigh of relief came over Meg as she stepped into the room. Her heart leapt to see what she saw. There, in a high backed chair, close to a low fire and fast asleep was the man that had filled her heart with so much passion and joy. She walked slowly to his side and seeing that he still wore his hat, gloves and cape, from the previous night, she silently and dutifully removed them and placed them to one side. She had placed a light blanket around him and kissed him on the cheek before she decided to study the room.

It was a very handsome room, a library of sorts, with the walls lined with books and maps. It was, most certainly a well used room. Slowly, as she scanned the books she pulled one down and walked to another chair close to the fireplace. Sitting down she began to read.

Meg was unaware of how much time had passed before she was interrupted from her book by Erik. He seemed a bit stunned to have her by his side but the shock of seeing her quickly melted away.

"How long have you been here, watching me, I presume," he asked as he pulled the blanket from around him and folded it.

Meg did not move from the chair, but closed the book and set it in her lap, "I've quite lost track of the time," she smiled, "I couldn't tell you just how long I have been here but, I dare say, you can tell me how long you have been here."

"I returned late," he said and returned to his seat, "there was much more to do then I had anticipated and more today. I don't know how I am going to deal with all of this," he sighed and looked into the dancing flames of the fireplace.

"Is there anything I can do?" Meg asked.

"No, you have enough to do, I fear I have to take this on, on my own as I always have," he sighed.

"You truly don't believe you are alone in all of this drama. I am here for you and will do all in my power to help you. I would not have it any other way, I want to be apart of your life and I wish for you to know it."

At these words Erik turned from the fire and looked on Meg in a way he had never dreamed to he would ever look on anyone with. He at one time had wished to see Christine in such a light but it had never happened and he had long ago given up that hope. But here she was, before him and for him. More beautiful was she, in his eyes, then any woman he had ever looked upon because they had moved past lust and to something much deeper. He saw in her eyes love. She never loved on him with fear, she never cringed to touch him and she loved him entirely. He stood and walked across the room to her.

Falling to his knees before her and taking her hands he looked deep into her eyes. They sparkled down at him with a love he had never seen in all his years. She smiled sweetly at him and leaned in and gently kissed him. That kiss was a kissed he had never dreamed of receiving, it was free and full and filled his soul to the very depths.

"But how is this possible?" he asked never looking away from her capturing eyes, "what have I done right?"

Meg giggled lovingly at his confusion, "is it possible that you've done nothing?" she asked.

"That is impossible," he said but smiled.

"Then I no not what was done, but I love you none the less and that should be all that matters," she said.

There were the words he had always longed to hear and she had just said them willingly and full of life. He could not believe what he had just heard. A smile spread across his face. Meg could not help but smile back at him.

"You will change your mind, I fear," he sighed.

"I believe I shall not," she whispered, "but if you are so very worry that I would you should ask me to marry you."

"Would you?" he asked her without even thinking.

"I most certainly would," she said a smile crossing her face that she could not hide. A blush rose up in her cheeks and tears swelled in her eyes, "I would," she repeated.

"A monster such as this?" he asked as he removed his mask and placed it in her lap.

"I do not see a monster," she smiled as she caressed his face, "I see, compassion. I see, eyes that have captured my soul, beautiful eyes," her face blushed as she spoke to him, "lips, that taste of heaven," she added and leaned in and kissed him again.

Filled with joy Erik could not help but pull her into his arms, "I pledge to you every happiness I can give you," he whispered into her ear, "the world, if you want it, is yours."

"Promise me nothing but yourself and I will be the happiest woman in the world," she whispered back.

The fell silent for a long time as they sat on the floor of the library in each others arms, staring into the crackling fire and listening to the silence that filled the space around them. For the first time in all of his life everything seemed perfect. He knew very well that there were trials that they would face. The most pressing was that of an angry Christine Daae and of the opening of the drama, but none of it seemed to matter at all. Not at that very moment. It seemed to them both like the world had slowed to a stop and they wished it never to recommence its turning, but they knew it must.

"There is much to be done," Erik whimpered as they sat together.

"Yes, you've already said that," Meg giggled, "what is there to do and you must allow me to remain with you for I do not think I could bare to be away from you just yet," she said as she looked deep into his eyes.

"Then I shall not cause you any such pain," he smiled down at her, "but we have some very serious business to attend to," he said as continued to tell her of his meeting with Andre and Firmin.

Within moments all was decided and Meg hurried off, reluctantly, to obtain some more formal attire as the Phantom pulled his cape back around his shoulders. Reluctantly he replaced the mask on his face, suddenly it felt like he did not need it anymore but be decided it would be better to wear it in the upper levels. Quickly he scooped up his hat and gloves and walked out of the library with a purpose. After all there was a drama to prepare for.


	36. A Final Act

_**Chapter 36: A Final Act.**_

Christine fled from the ballet hall in tears. It was true she had completely crewed up all of her hopes and was now exiled to find her own way in the world. Her mind was suddenly clear, clear to the world and all that happened in it. She had hardly anything and could do nothing but face her own problems. That was the saddest truth of them all. There were many things that an unfortunate woman could fall into when no longer respected by the world. And all of the horrors flooded into Christine's mind, and yet she could do nothing more but face the uncertainty of the rest of her life.

She gathered to her the few belonging she had and sat sobbing on the bed that she had occupied in the ballet dormitory. She hadn't been there long at all and yet it was the only home she knew. Where was she to go? How would she survive? She had gained a small amount of money and saved it. Stashed under her pillow she cradled the small sack of coins in her hands as she cried. She was a ruined woman and soon she would have to face the fact that Meg had gained everything the world had to offer.

The horrors of her past and future flooded in all around her.

"How," she asked herself, "how could everything be so terrible?"

"Because you were not careful," Madame Giry said as she entered the ballet dormitory. She was alone but looked as severe as she had earlier that morning, "you have made some very grievous mistakes and now you much face them all. There is nothing more we can do for you here. You understand that I believe."

"I do," Christine said as she choked back her tears.

"Never had I ever thought you would end up like this Christine," The old woman said as she sat down on the bed beside the sobbing diva, "I had, had great expectations for you and yet you have failed me, it was not I who failed you. You could have been great you know, and perhaps you can again, but it will not be in this place."

"Where could I go?" Christine asked for the first time looking into the old woman's eyes, "there is no where for me now."

"You are not without your skills and I believe that if you were better behaved you could have regained some of your previous glory but that cannot happen here. Do not think me heartless, young woman, as I have done all in my power to help you along the way, even if my reprimands were insincere you had been like a daughter to me," she said and held out another small sack of coins to Christine, "use these wisely they should tide you over until you get another position somewhere. I have written directly to a few other institutions and they are willing to audition you," she added and held out a small sheet of paper, "it isn't much but I believe that you can act your way into their ranks, but be cautious not to use any of the antics you have tried to apply here. They will not do you any good and you are going to have to counter act the stories that are going to follow you by way of the media. I do not know how you will be out of that terror," she said and stood, "but that is what awaits you. I wish you well but I do not ever wish to see you back in this building. Never again will you dance on this stage, or sing, as long as I live,' she concluded her speech and left the ballet dormitory.

Christine sat silently for a few moments looking at the list of names and paces. There were but two, but they were well known ballet institutions and the money would bring her as far as their doors. At least she had some hope for the future.

"So that is it," she said to herself, gold coins in one hand and the sheet of paper in the other, "perhaps fortune has smiled on you and one day you will see that it has, but as of right now, no one is smiling. You've really done it and they hate you for it. At one time you had hated and feared what lived within these walls and now you must morn the loss of it all. It was all you knew," she said to herself and dried her tears, "that is all, there will be no more of this."

Picking up her case, that contained the few items of clothing she had left and her personal effects, she walked out of the ballet dormitory for the very last time.

She walked slowly through the silent opera house and toward the foyer. No sound could be heard in the darkened hallways. No one was present in the doorways. It was a sad and silent procession she made through a place that had once been such a great part of her life and such a terribly dangerous place at one time. Now it was she who was exiled.

As she pulled open the door leading into the foyer she was caught by a great shock. There, lining the great stair cases and the walls were every last member of the company. High atop the stairs stood Madame Giry and the Managers. All around them the ballerinas, the chorus members, the cast and crew of all that was to happen and all that she had disgraced so badly.

Christine fought to keep her composure as she walked toward the great gilded entrance doors. Two footmen stood on either side of the doors. It seemed like a mile across the floor that she had to travers to gain her escape, all eyes trailed her in silence. The looks on the faces that she past were that of anger and hatred. She couldn't reach the doors fast enough. But just as they were within her reach a voice called out to her.

She turned, suddenly, a hope spread through her body, perhaps it was not yet to late. As she turned she watched the crowd on the staircase part and there in their mists stood the Phantom of the Opera and at his right, holding tightly to his arm and looking prouder then every before stood Meg Giry.

They descended the stairs to the stunned glares and the whispers of the entire congregation. Never had the Phantom make a spectacle such as this before. They walked regally down the stairs and Meg smiled lovingly at him. Across the floor they came and stopped just in front of Christine. She looked horror struck to behold them. But there they were, Meg dressed in the finest cloths she had ever beheld in her life and Erik looking as strong and menacing as ever he had.

"You are to apologize to the fair lady before you depart," Erik said looking down at Christine.

Christine was horror struck, she turned an angry glare at Meg but with all the eyes of the congregation on her, she could do nothing but curtsy and apologized to Meg.

"I thank you," Meg said softly, "and I do wish you luck," she returned the curtsy.

"You must know, Christine, that I shall never think of you again after this day. Long ago I would have died to see you here, but I have lost that part of me only to be filled with a greater love for another. You and I were never meant to be, no matter how much I had wished it, but I want you to go into the world knowing that I am loved, a really and sincere love," Erik said as he looked down and pressed his hand to Meg's, that held onto his arm.

"I wish you happiness," Christine whispered as tears welled up in her eyes once more.

"And now I shall offer one final favor to you as you leave," Erik said and he reached out and pulled open the door himself.

Outside the door an army of media men had been waiting. As they saw the door open they called out to Christine but to their surprise they did not see her at all but the ominous figure of the Phantom himself. They stepped back in fear and Christine stepped out of the great gilded door. Erik bowed slightly to Christine and Meg curtsied. Christine returned the niceties and she stepped down the stairs and away from the crowd.

"It's him," one reporter yelled.

"The Phantom, himself," another gasped.

But not one of them moved. They were awe struck, or horror struck, but it didn't even occur to them that they had missed the story they had come to capture. Christine disappeared into the crowd and left the Opera Populair forever.

The great gilded door closed on the reporters and Erik and Meg stepped back toward the crowd in the foyer. Walking back the way they came the crowd parted once again to let them pass. They started to mount the great stairs once more all aware of the eyes on them.

"You should all stop gawking, and return to your practice," Erik said as he addressed the crowd, "Full dress rehearsal will start in one hours time," he added and he and Meg disappeared together into the darkness of the theatre.

Madame watched them out of side, a joy filling her to her very soul, finally her daughter had found her place in the world. Meg would be a very happy woman.


	37. As Time Goes On

_**Chapter 37: As Time Goes On.**_

It is not all together uncommon for human beings to be kind to one another. Kindness is an activity of human nature and yet so is scepticism and hatred. To some, what is different must always be looked on with disdain, and so that is how Erik believed he would always be seen. But compassionate hearts are not altogether unthinkable and he, though unsightly in the physical, was found to be a loving and beautiful person by one who could see deep within and forgo the outward appearance.

And so it was, for Erik and Meg, a beautiful and simple life together. She would not be without him if he would have allowed it and they remained very near to each other at all times. The wedding between them was small and quite. Held within the darkness of the theatre walls, Andre and Firmin, along with the brides mother were the only witnesses aside from God. It hastily took place on the eve of the dramas opening night. Meg wore a simple, white dress, no fancier then a night gown and Erik arrived without his mask. It was but the managers, Madame giry and the priest who were privy to knowing the Phantom's name, aside from his bride and they were sworn to secrecy. Meg could not help but smile through the whole of the service and when he had placed the cold gold ring on her finger she felt as if she would burst with joy. Their vows said and a kiss assured her that he had been feeling the exact same way. It was the happiest moment in either of their lives and they were over joyed to have shared it with each other.

When the service was ended, Meg was whisked off by her mother and into costume and makeup and Erik was left in solitude to marvel at what his life had become. Never had he felt so much happiness in all of his life. Never had he allowed such happiness to befall him and yet he could not deny the happiness of the woman he loved. He gave freely of his feeling to her and felt hers in exchange.

He took his place, shadowed by the curtains of box five and awaited the commencement of his newest work and to behold his bride, dancing only for him, on a night that could not bring more happiness to a man of music. For it was on this night that all of his toils and dispar had been dashed away. He had taken a wife, who loved him, and was soon to be witness to what his life's work had really amounted to.

Nerves had never been a problem to Erik, but on this night there was much to aware of. He wouldn't have admitted to anyone that he was terrified of what was to become of him. Had he been asked three years earlier he would have said he feared nothing, not even death. But on this night he felt a fear greater then anything he had ever anticipated, he was facing the future.

The performance of the Phantoms _La Dance du Diable_ was met with rave reviews. Meg's performance brought the audience to tears. The duets of Genevieve and Rene produced and on stage chemistry that even the audience could not deny. The Opera Populair was once again shining like a star in the world of the arts. Madame Giry was held in great esteem for her ballet. Monsieur Reyer for his music and the Managers for their unusual plot to bring the Phantoms music back to the public. But most of all the Phantom was praised for his musical genius. Something he had always wished for and was never able to have.

Meg was swept up in the adoration of the public once the curtain fell. The back stage area and her dressing room were flooded with admirers but the simple gold ring on her hand was what eased her mind and chased away much of the adoration as she was already taken. However her dance was beyond anything anyone had seen and her skills were in very high demand after that point. She could not escape the offers to travel the world, to perform for royalty and nobility in many countries and yet she refused it all.

Meg had vowed early on she would dance only for Erik and now with her new iconic status she refused to leave the opera populair. When the run of _La dance du Diable _she vowed, to the press, not to take the stage until the Phantom had finished his newest work. She would dance only to his music as it moved her so deeply. Never did they lead it out that a union within the opera had occurred but the rumor of the Phantoms new love spread deep into the public. Meg disappeared into the darkness of the underground with her new husband as soon as she could escape the masses in the back stage areas.

Into the darkness of opening night, their wedding night, they fled into their palace under ground. And it was in this place that Erik led his new wife to their bridal bed. She did not quiver to behold him and gave of herself freely and passionately to him. He was strong and gentle and felt only their hearts and their passion as he laid with her. Smiling and whispering sweet nothings to each other, a deep, timeless, love had taken hold over them both, for the rest of their days, they could not have been happier. They would, from that moment on, be but one soul.

Erik and Meg were not the only ones to live happily, Andre and Firmin had finally realized what they had set out to do. They had saved the Opera Populair from ruin and gained their own iconic status at the same time. They had been offered many position with many great institution but they were all turned down. Working peacefully with the Phantom had gained them a great ali. Never would they worry again about the stability of their institution as it was always a place for the Phantom to publish his works and to see his beautiful wife alive with dance and moved by his passionate music.

Christine, on the other hand, did not have an easy life. She was left to start all over again and though the rumors of her turmoil and devastating behavior did not follow her into the world, she had to start from the very bottom and never gained any great esteem. She was but a chorus girl and would forever be that as she had long ago lost what the Phantom had given her. She still looked at Meg's fame as a waist of her own talent as it could have all been hers, but it was not to be. She lived and died a Chorus girl.

And so it was, the opera was saved and the music played on. But the greatest surprised of all was that Erik lived happily until his dying days. He had a full and respected musical career, a beautiful loving wife and a family he was most proud of. His son carried on in his footsteps with his musical genius and his mothers fair complection. He went on, under the ever watchful eyes of his father, to gain greatness in the world. But, alas, that is another story.


End file.
